


the crows and the doves

by kyeoesc



Series: the crows and the doves [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Food, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Molestation, Oblivious Woosan, PTSD attack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Assault, Slice of Life, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Trauma, Underage Drug Use, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyeoesc/pseuds/kyeoesc
Summary: Choi San and Jung Wooyoung had been close friends since San moved to Seoul three years ago. Once they step into high school, Wooyoung meets Yeosang; an angel descent, from the looks of it. Wooyoung just wanted to date a cute boy, but there's so much more to high school life than cute boys and good ddeokbokki.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kang Yeosang/Song Mingi
Series: the crows and the doves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089989
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	1. the five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooyoung announces his crush to his friends, Yeosang is reminded of the boy with hooded eyes from his orientation class, and three friends is introduced to troublemaker Song Mingi.
> 
> TW>> PTSD attack

_ Amicus  _ _ usque  _ _ ad aras. _

“I think I like Kang Yeosang.” 

Choi San stopped chewing for a second. Then he continued, his mouth full of rice mixed with anchovies and milk. He was eating a meal his mom packed for lunch. Jung Wooyoung looked at San for a second, then looked back down at his own packed lunch, slightly shy.

“Kang Yeosang from class 3?”

“Yea.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s gorgeous.”

“Okay,” San wanted to roll his eyes, but he stopped himself. “Why suddenly?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think it’s suddenly. He just seems like a nice person.”

He is. Yeosang’s not only really good looking, he’s down to earth too; generally a good person. Humble for a guy with his face, in San’s opinion. But he doesn’t think he’s a suitable fit for Wooyoung, or at least, from what San knows of him. They’ve been close friends since middle school, so he knows Wooyoung pretty well. Their parents know each other and they go everywhere together, so maybe, to be more accurate, San knows him very well. He doesn’t know much about Kang Yeosang, though.

“Are you gonna… like… confess to him?” San asked slowly. Wooyoung’s previous crushes had always been just someone to adore from afar. But Wooyoung’s unpredictable.

“Well, maybe I’ll try to be friends with him first.” San can tell Wooyoung’s still slightly shy about confessing his crush. 

“He’s really cute, isn’t he?” San grinned.

“He’s reaaaaally cute.”

The two giggled. 

-

San was walking with Wooyoung from class when he spotted Yeosang buying bread in the cafeteria from afar. He decided to quietly drag Wooyoung with him as he paced faster towards the bread kiosk. Wooyoung followed.

“You want bread today?” he asked.

“Yeap, can you get me a red bean bun?” San briefly ordered. “I’m gonna buy a sandwich.” 

“Okay,” Wooyoung obeyed as they separated; sweet breads to the right, savory breads to the left. Wooyoung started towards the pile of buns when he realized the taller build in front of him, his head small and his skin as white as milk. Wooyoung felt his heart miss a beat, then gulped some saliva. He turned to San, who only grinned back, then paid for his sandwich. Wooyoung turned back to the buns, his face already drained of blood.

“ _ Just take the bun and pay, Woo, don’t overthink it, _ ” Wooyoung thought to himself. He reached for the bun labeled ‘red bean’, trying to not push the boy in front of him. His fingers stretched but didn’t reach the plastic packaging. A white hand reached for the same bun and offered it to Wooyoung. Wooyoung looked up to see Yeosang looking at him peculiarly, his eyes sculpted like a doll’s, his lips thin, his nose high. Wooyoung took it gratefully.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung said, his voice as small as a mosquito’s. Yeosang smiled back.

“Wooyoung, right?” the pale boy asked.

“Yea,” Wooyoung replied. “We were in the same class for orientation week.”

“Right, I remember,” Yeosang replied. “I’m Yeosang. You’re not eating a meal for lunch?”

“I’m buying for my friend, San,” he looked across his shoulder to see if San was around but he wasn't. Wooyoung cursed at him in his head. “What about you?”

“Just dessert,” Yeosang replied. He paid for his bun and walked away. “Well, see you around.”

“Yea, see you.” 

Wooyoung felt his throat dry and almost jumped out of his skin when San patted his hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Good job,” San whispered, carton of milk in his other hand.

“I WILL kill you,” Wooyoung threatened without looking at the other. They walked back to class, and as they passed by class 1-1, they heard someone shouting their names. They turned simultaneously to see Jung Yunho, one long arm hanging out the class window, his face bright as always. They were from the same middle school, three of about ten boys that got into the same high school.

“Bread for lunch?”

“Dessert,” Wooyoung replied bitterly. San quietly sipped his milk.

“Come eat with me,” Yunho invited. “Mom packed eel today.”

The semester went on like the cold fall breeze; quick and excitingly. San figured out that Yeosang was in the basketball club, so he told Wooyoung to join the same club. Wooyoung didn’t like basketball, so he picked the next best thing; the baking club, a club that ran on the same days as basketball. San joined in for fun, since he wasn’t planning to join any clubs anyway. On the first meeting, they found out it was run by stoners.

“Wait that actually sounds fun,” Yunho giggled when they met up for lunch the next day. “Did you see you-know-who though?”

San couldn’t keep the secret to himself, but Yunho seemed to agree that Kang Yeosang is someone to pay attention to. Wooyoung slowly felt himself shrivel as the topic emerged.

“Yea we saw him,” Wooyoung quickly replied, trying to change the subject. “Yunho, what did you bring for lunch?”

“He didn’t even say hi!” San said exasperatedly. “He pretended he didn’t see the boy. And he was bad at pretending too, since he was staring for ten whole seconds before looking away.”

Wooyoung stole a piece of San’s kimbap and put it in his mouth whole. San just stared unbelievably. 

“That’s okay, it’s only the first day,” Yunho said brightly, putting some kimchi on his rice before eating a mouthful. “You’ll get used to seeing him, and you’ll finally get the courage to say hi, then you’ll be good friends at first, and then you’ll eat hotteok together, holding hands in the cold of winter, and spend Christmas together, then… kiss?”

Yunho and San laughed when Wooyoung only kept quiet, his ears visibly red. 

“Here’s a reminder that it’s already over a quarter through the semester though,” San told Wooyoung. “You need to speed up if you really want to spend Christmas with him.”

“Hey, that’s not even  _ my _ plan. That’s  _ Yunho’s _ plan.”

“Speaking of which, maybe I’ll join you guys today,” Yunho piped in.

“Then you’ll get to meet some stoner friends and get high with them or something,” Wooyoung grinned.

“Seoul kids are scary.” San nibbled on the ends of his chopsticks. He moved to Seoul back in middle school, and his Seoul accent is immaculate now compared to back then. Wooyoung was the only one who wanted to be friends with him, “because he’s good looking”, Wooyoung said, “despite talking like a hillbilly”. San didn’t take offense to that; they were kids, and they’re much more understanding about each other’s backgrounds now. Wooyoung even uses dialect words when talking to San’s parents. Wooyoung hadn’t visited his home in a while. Maybe high school is about to drift them apart. San was ready for that.

At the baking club meeting, the third year students huddled at the front of the class and talked about who should get their cannabis trim. The rest sprawled across the room, sitting in a random arrangement of chairs. The second years were near the windows; about four of them. The rest were a handful of first years, unknowing of what the future of the club was. Some came after knowing what the club activities were, some came because they had nothing else to do after school. After a few minutes the crowd grew louder in chatter of boredom, so a third year cleared his throat to regain their attention. 

“So first things first, welcome. I see a few fresh faces,” the short lanky boy nodded at Yunho and a few others; Yunho awkwardly looked on, “and I’m glad that we have so much interest. However, even though the school is providing the baking materials and kitchen, please know that the baked goods will not be distributed to everyone, as the ‘special ingredients’ are provided solely by us third years.” A few groans emerged from the crowd. “Don’t worry, if you work hard enough we might offer you a reward in return. We are a democratic system that allows opportunities to those who fight for it.”

“Fucking idiot doesn’t know the difference between democracy and socialism,” a tall skinny first year said under his breath, but just loud enough for the rest of the first years to hear.

“Anyway, we’ll start baking next week, make sure to do your homework because these things are rather complex; you have to be  _ really _ careful or else you might cause someone’s bad trip.”

“Why should they be concerned about a bad trip when they can’t even get a decent score on home economics,” the tall boy sassed again. Giggles sputtered from the group.

“If we find ourselves a bad batch, there  _ will  _ be consequences.”

“Other than your growth stunt?”

The group bursted into laughter, causing the calm to suddenly disrupt. The second years finally leave the classroom, leaving the ruckus in annoyance. 

“Is there a problem over there?” The third year in charge asked in a loud voice. 

“Just your height,” the tall boy giggled.

“Excuse me?” the third year exclaimed. “Do you mind speaking up?”

The tall boy cleared his throat and stood up with a straight face. “I was just explaining my adoration to your confidence, hyung.”

“Hyung?” The third year chuckled. “Hoon-sunbaenim will do.”

“Yes, Hoon-sunbaenim. Despite your lack of vertical length, I completely admire your ability to lead and confidence in speaking. I hope I can learn well from you.” The group started giggling again.

“What’s your name?” Hoon asked.

“Song Mingi.”

“Mingi from the Song family, know that you just made your life in this school five times harder than it had to be.”

“That’s okay sunbaenim, I don’t expect to live easily.”

-

“That Mingi guy was something, huh?” Yunho asked as he glanced at the other two. They decided to get ddeokbokki after the meeting adjourned earlier than expected, each with a full cup in one hand, the other hand holding a long toothpick.

“He was kinda obnoxious,” Wooyoung said.

“I think he’s cool, just a bit noisy,” San piped in. He smiled at Yunho playfully. “Why? Are you interested?”

“What? Pff, no,” Yunho shuddered. After a moment of silence, he continued. “But he’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”

“You’re seriously thinking about it?” San exclaimed. 

“I said no-“

“Yunho, if you wanna date someone, at least find someone nice. Like us. We’re nice kids. Song Mingi? He’s going to break your heart into itty bitty pieces,” Wooyoung lectured, gesturing crushing something with the hand that held the toothpick. The toothpick wobbled out of his grasp, but he caught it before it fell to the ground.

“Kang Yeosang?” Yunho suggested. “Is he a nice kid?”

“Kang Yeosang’s the purest human being I’ve ever seen,” San snorted. He thought about how Wooyoung completely froze when Yeosang waved at him with a smile when they made eye contact as they left the school. San had to nudge him before Wooyoung actually raised a hand in return. Yeosang wasn’t the friendly type, but in Wooyoung’s mind he imagined asking if Yeosang’s meeting ended early too, and if he wanted to join them for ddeokbokki. By the time he had built up the courage to speak, Yeosang’s friends from basketball had already dragged him along somewhere else.

“There’s progress,” Wooyoung smiled to himself as he bit into another piece of rice cake. San shuddered.

“That’s creepy.”

“If you consider an exchange of waves as progress, then you’ll get married at the age of 40,” Yunho said.

“You can’t rush these things. If you rush it, he’ll run away like a little lamb.”

“Wow, you’re suddenly the love expert,” Yunho teased.

“So by progress do you mean to say that you’re planning to make a move?” San asked, genuinely curious.

“I mean, why not, right?” Wooyoung pondered out loud. “If he waved at me first, and remembered me from orientation class, then probably that means he’s also interested in me, right? Right?” 

The other two kept quiet.

“Why can’t you guys support me?” Wooyoung whined.

“This is realistic support,” Yunho told.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” San shook his head.

-

“I’m home,” Yeosang mumbled as he entered the doorway of his apartment. Sounds of a chair falling rang through the hallways as he pulled his foot out from his shoes. He froze in place, the echoes ringing in his head. His eyes widened and his breath shortened, tears swelling in his eye sockets. His back curled as he dropped on his side, his shoe in his face, staring at it with the blur of his tears. The boy sobbed, the tears streaming down his cheeks and over his nose, his teeth biting into his lower lips. He couldn’t stop crying, his consciousness half wanting to stop, the other somewhere else, to another time, to a time when he was helpless, and he could only watch in fear and sadness, the sight of his own mother-

“Yeosang!” His father’s shouts rang through his consciousness. “Yeosang, are you okay?”

The pale boy felt his father’s hands raise his torso by the shoulders. He was now facing the aging man, still a blur from the tears. He hiccuped.

“Dad…”

“Yeosang, please, stop crying…” he felt his body drop onto his father’s, his face hanging over his shoulder. He felt like screaming, but instead he let his throat dry. The tears stopped streaming, but he didn’t have the strength to move. He felt himself fall into a void as he closed his eyes.

_ Why did mom have to go? _


	2. of bread and joints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho asks San out, Mingi finds himself some trouble, and Wooyoung finally has a normal conversation with Yeosang. About bread.
> 
> TW>> bullying, drug use

“Do you wanna watch a movie this weekend?”

“Sure, what’s showing?” San asked, stealing one of Wooyoung’s spam pieces from his lunchbox, taking advantage of the boy’s bathroom break. 

“I think that new Marvel movie is still showing,” Yunho replied, following in San’s steps and stealing a piece of spam. “I’ve watched it like three times now but I think you’ll like it.”

“Uhm okay,” San replied. It started to sound weird, so he had to confirm what Yunho was implying. “Just the two of us?”

“Yea,” Yunho said, his big eyes looking at San like a puppy’s, hopeful and innocent.

San frowned slightly. “Are you asking me out? Purposely, while Wooyoung isn’t here to hear it?”

“I mean, it’d be pretty awkward to ask someone out in front of someone else.”

“Yunho, when he said date a nice kid like us, he didn’t literally mean one of us,” San scolded.

“I mean, I actually do like you,” Yunho said. “Do you not like me?”

“I like you as a friend,” San replied, stealing another spam. “Plus, I’m not that interested in dating right now.”

“So no movie this weekend?”

“Not if Wooyoung’s not coming with.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re only interested in dating one person…”

“What?”

“I can hear your evil hands stealing that spam from over here but that’s okay because I’m a nice person.” Wooyoung looked at the two staring at each other as he sat down between them. “Did I miss something?”

“Wooyoung, do you wanna watch a Marvel movie this weekend?” Yunho asked loudly, annoyance obvious in his voice. San only grimaced.

“The one that was released like last month? Nah I already watched it with my brother.” Yunho took the last three pieces of spam from Wooyoung’s lunch box. “Hey!”

“You make me sad,” Yunho said in a low voice, throwing the spam into his mouth. Many students pass class 1-1 as they walk towards the cafeteria and back to class, but a tall figure caught Yunho’s attention as it passed by the class window.  _ Song Mingi. _

The boy passed briefly, walking towards the end of the hallways where the restroom was. As he passes class 1-3, two students bump into him from behind, running by and shouting a “Sorry!” as they run downstairs. Mingi stretched his lips and went back on his way to the restroom. As he walked, he felt an absence in his back pocket. He felt it to see if his wallet was still there; it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” Mingi whispered under his breath. “Stop!”

The tall boy almost leaped down the stairs, trying to recognize the two boys that bumped into him. He looked around to see confused faces of second years, none looking like they had ever seen Mingi before. He approached a group of students that stood near the staircase.

“Hi, did you see two boys run down here a minute ago?” he asked in a low voice, slightly out of breath.

“They went towards the field,” one of them told.

“Alright, thanks!” Mingi said briefly before heading the opposite way of the hallway, towards the building exit where a pathway leads towards the field, branching to the right where the outdoor locker rooms were. By its entrance stood the third years from the baking club. They saw Mingi, Hoon in the centre. He smirked and threw Mingi’s black canvas wallet on the ground in front of them. Mingi walked calmly towards the group, and they started walking towards Mingi as well. As they met halfway, Hoon whispered to Mingi:

“Weed cash; jackpot.”

Mingi clenched his fists. When he reached his wallet, he found only his money was stolen. He turned to watch the group walk through the building entrance. He can’t report robbery unless he had proof of the money he had before. Mingi doesn’t even remember how much he had left exactly; somewhere around 15-30 bucks. He sighed. Well, he  _ was _ asking for it.

Mingi walked back towards the second floor, heading towards the restroom, pretending nothing happened. He used the urinal then walked towards the sink to wash his hands. A boy with skin as white as milk and eyes as pure as a doe’s walked in, heading towards the sink next to Mingi. Mingi stared at Yeosang for a bit as he washed his hands. The other washed his face, then breathed heavily over the sink, his head looking down. 

“You okay?”

Yeosang looked up at the familiar face. “Yea, I’m fine.”

“If they’re being too loud just let me know, I’ll tell them to shut up.”

“No, I’ll be okay,” Yeosang smiled, shaking off the droplets from his face. “I have to get used to it somehow.”

“Okay.” Mingi walked towards the hand dryer and dried off his hands. “Maybe your face is small enough to fit this dryer.”

“Very funny,” Yeosang replied. “You go ahead, I promise I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Mingi paused for a bit before walking out of the restroom, towards class 1-3. He sat down on his chair, thinking about how Yeosang had a PTSD attack back in middle school, shivering and sweating, tears streaming down his cheeks. Him and his classmates could only watch, not sure of what to do until a teacher came to get him and carry him to the infirmary. 

Mingi is Yeosang’s only schoolmate from middle school who made it to the same high school. He’s the only one who knows about Yeosang’s mother and his condition, and because of that he felt responsible of taking care of the pale boy. They weren’t close, and they definitely don’t talk about it, but Mingi checked in on Yeosang once in a while.

Well, how is he supposed to take care of Yeosang now that he has problems of his own?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” San asked, hovering over a plate of pajeon. 

“Trust me, he’ll thank us for this later,” Yunho replied, mouth already full with a slice from the Korean pancake. “This is so good.”

“I’m worried. I mean, he hadn’t actually approached a crush before,” San told.

“Well if they’re really going to work out, it doesn’t have to be from Wooyoung’s side,” Yunho tried to convince the other. “He’s just going too slow. At this pace Yeosang’s going to forget he even exists. They barely talk to each other.”

“Okay,” San dwelled. He poked a hole in a slice, cutting it into smaller pieces before putting it into his mouth. “But you didn’t tell him something stupid like we’re on a date or anything like that right?”

“Of course not,” Yunho said, throwing another full slice into his mouth, dipping sauce dripping onto the table.

_ I’m on a date with San. Go talk to Yeosang _

“Fuck,” Wooyoung whispered under his breath as he read the text. They’re dating? Since when? Not that it mattered right now. How is he supposed to talk to Yeosang alone? He thought he’d be better with his friends around; casual, just friends hanging, nothing weird like romantic interest or anything like that. But now he has to talk to him alone? The anxiety swelled in Wooyoung’s head.

“Okay, let’s head to the kitchen now,” one of the third years said out loud. “This will be the last time in this year we’ll be meeting in this room, we’re only meeting here first today so that we can guide you helpless first years to where the kitchen is. Now let’s go.”

The crowd walked out of the classroom, and Wooyoung followed behind. He wasn’t really in the mood though, so he decided to go to the restroom first, calm down, refresh himself. Convince himself he’s one of the stoner kids now, so he can focus on baking rather than Yeosang. Yeosang… and his round cheeks… and his soft smile… Wooyoung smacked the side of his head outside the men’s restroom. As he entered, he saw the second years from the club at the end of the narrow walls, smoking something by the window. They glanced at him and smirked. 

“Look, it’s one of the first years from the club.”

Wooyoung ignored them at first, heading to one of the sinks.

“Hey, don’t ignore us. Come here, we don’t bite.”

Wooyoung didn’t know what to do. There was no one else around, and he didn't know these people well enough to gauge their friendliness level. When he hesitated, the group of four burst into laughter. One of them handed a joint to Wooyoung. “Here. You’re in the club for this, right?”

Wooyoung gulped. Didn’t he just think a second ago that he needed to focus on becoming a ‘stoner kid’? Isn’t this an easy way in? He glanced at the second year then looked back down at the joint he was offering.

“Come on. Take a puff. We won’t hurt you for it. Sharing is caring, my man.”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why but he trusted the older. He took the joint, trying to calm his breathing, and brought it up to his mouth. He paused for a moment before taking a hit. He felt the smoke enter his mouth and into his lungs, coughing slightly from the burn, swallowing some saliva to cool it off.

“Naah, you coughed it all out. This your first time? That’s okay, we can teach you. Just swallow it, breath it in like air. Go on, take another hit.”

Wooyoung felt like he had no choice but to do it; now that he has started, he has to keep going. This time he held the smoke in and breathed, as instructed. He felt the warm air enter his lungs, and blood rushing to his head. The boys started hooting, when a figure came in through the door. Wooyoung snapped into consciousness and looked over his shoulder.

At the other side of the restroom was Yeosang in shorts and a t-shirt, sweat dripping down his neck. He looked at Wooyoung, glancing down at his hand, then looked away. Wooyoung faced down in embarrassment as Yeosang used a urinal, then as he washed his hands and walked out, Wooyoung felt like his entire world had dropped on his head. He gave back the joint and rushed out of the bathroom. He looked down the hallway to see the pale boy walking towards the basketball court. Wooyoung wanted to chase after him, but what was he going to say anyway? They barely knew each other.

Wooyoung peeped into the restroom again.

“Um, how do I get to the kitchen?”

-

“So, you’re dating Yunho now?” Wooyoung asked San before class the next morning.

“Wait, what?”

“Yunho told me yesterday that you guys were on a date.”

San scoffed in disbelief of what Yunho had done. “We were hiding out to give you a chance to talk to you-know-who. That was just some joke of Yunho’s. You know how dumb he can be sometimes.”

“I mean, if you want to you  _ should _ date him though. You guys look cute together,” Wooyoung told him, twirling a pen in his hand.

“I’m not that interested in dating.”

“You don’t have to like, actually date him. He can be your go-to guy or something.”

San paused for a moment. “Woo,  _ you’re _ my go-to guy.”

Wooyoung grinned, still twirling his pen, his eyes stuck on it. “I mean, yea, for now I can, but when I start dating you-know-who then I can’t be your go-to guy anymore, you know? Because then I’ll be  _ his _ go-to guy.”

“You’re talking like you already have him wrapped around your finger or something.”

Wooyoung’s grin disappeared, his pen wobbling out of place. It falls to the floor and Wooyoung bends down to pick it up.

“Sorry I-”

“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t be too hopeful,” Wooyoung smiled softly. “I mean, what if it doesn’t work out, right? There’s always that possibility too.”

“Sorry.” San stared at Wooyoung’s pen. Both of them felt a pang of guilt, so San decided to break the awkward silence. “How did it go yesterday, anyway?”

Wooyoung rested his head on the table in front of him. “It sucked.” 

-

Wooyoung didn’t think it would work, but it did.

He decided to buy a sweet bun today, and there he was. Skin white, doe-eyed, scanning the pile of bread for one that would catch his interest today. Wooyoung built up the courage to queue behind him.

“Hey,” Wooyoung called.

Yeosang looked up. “Oh hey.” He looked back down at the buns. “Bread for San again?”

“For me this time,” Wooyoung replied, not really looking at the labels of the bread. His head was spinning from actually talking to Kang Yeosang. About bread.

“Cool.” Yeosang reached out to grab a strawberry cream bun. “Can’t go wrong with strawberry.”

Wooyoung looked up to see Yeosang smiling at him, then heading towards the counter to pay. He browsed through the pile to look for a strawberry cream bun, but couldn’t find one. He settled for red bean instead.

In class 1-1, San sat with Yunho for lunch, waiting for Wooyoung with their usual arrangement. 

“You told him we were on a date after I explicitly told you not to.”

“Technically, I sent the message  _ before _ you told me not to.”

“Well guess what?” San started, opening his lunch box with a clatter of the lid falling on Yunho’s desk. “When I asked him how yesterday went, he told me that ‘it sucked’. So much for your brilliant plan.”

“I mean if he didn’t make a move, or pretended you-know-who doesn’t exist again like before, of course it would’ve sucked. He lost a chance.” Yunho opened his lunch box too, feeding himself some chicken pieces. “We can give him more chances if you’d like.”

“Funny.” San opened Wooyoung’s lunch box to peep what was inside, and closed it back when he saw nothing interesting. “He looked upset about it though. Like, almost hopeless.”

“Is that the boy you’re talking about?” Yunho pointed towards the class window, looking out to the hallway. San followed his sight, and saw Wooyoung staring at Yeosang from a distance, but not far enough. Other students who saw him whispered to each other briefly, giving Wooyoung judgemental glances.

“Yea, he’s hopeless alright,” San replied. He raised an arm to gain Wooyoung’s attention, waving it around. “Hey stalker!”

Wooyoung’s eyes darted towards San in a panic. His eyes went back to Yeosang, who was climbing the stairs up.  _ He’s not eating in his class, _ Wooyoung thought.  _ Weird.  _

He walked towards Yunho’s table and grabbed his lunch.

“See you guys later,” he said briefly.

“Hey, where are you going?” San asked, but Wooyoung didn’t reply. Yunho stared at San, mouth full of food. San finally looked back down to his food a few moments after Wooyoung fell out of his sight. 

“He’s out chasing angels, I swear,” he mumbled.

“Your boy’s all grown up now,” Yunho smirked. San threw him an annoyed look and went back to his lunch box.

Wooyoung followed Yeosang up the stairs, carrying his lunch in a bag with his cutlery and the bread he had just bought. Yeosang didn’t stop on the third floor, which convinced Wooyoung he was heading for the rooftop. As Wooyoung reached the bottom of the stairs towards the roof and Yeosang by the exit door, the taller stopped. He turned to look at Wooyoung, as if he knew that he was there the whole time. “Are you following me?”

“Uhh,” Wooyoung hesitated.

Yeosang didn’t wait for a reply and went through the door to the rooftop. Wooyoung went up the stairs slightly quicker than before. He hesitantly opened the exit door to see Yeosang eating his bread on a raised edge. He was looking at Wooyoung curiously.

The wide flat roof was mostly empty. No one else was around, but remnants of class skippers and after school hangouts were around; plastic cups and crumpled plastic wraps of snacks and bread, a piece of folded cloth left near the exit door, a pair of flip flops next to it, some broken chairs that students had brought up there. Yeosang sat along the edge near the middle of the roof. One wrong move and one could easily fall off the four-story building.

“Do you always eat alone?” Wooyoung asked finally, approaching the other.

“Sometimes, when I need some quiet.”

“Oh.” Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, looking down. He considered going back, feeling embarrassed.

“Do you have a packed lunch?” Yeosang asked, nodding at Wooyoung’s little bag.

“Um, yea,” Wooyoung replied. “Do you want some?”

Yeosang nodded slowly.

Wooyoung munched on his red bean bun as he watched Yeosang engulf his lunch. He wondered why Yeosang doesn’t have his own lunch, and if he really ate buns everyday. Yeosang paused suddenly and looked up at Wooyoung.

“You should eat some before I finish it all off.”

“If you’re hungry you can have it,” Wooyoung said softly.

Yeosang nodded happily, feeding himself another bite of rice. He looked back at Wooyoung and nodded at the bun.

“You went for red bean instead. Do you like red bean?”

“There weren’t any strawberry cream buns left,” Wooyoung told. “You must’ve taken the last one.”

“Oh really?” Yeosang wondered. “I thought I saw one more.”

“Yesterday, I-”

“Oh yea! You’re in the baking club aren’t you? With Mingi?”

“You know Mingi?” Wooyoung had finished the bun at this point, crumpling the plastic wrap and throwing it into his bag.

“Yea, he’s from my middle school,” Yeosang told. Wooyoung picked a piece of spam from his lunch box with his fingers and Yeosang came closer so Wooyoung could reach it better. Wooyoung felt slightly flustered, but quickly calmed himself. He didn’t feel warmth coming from Yeosang’s body. Wooyoung wondered if he was even human.

“You know him well?”

“We’re okay,” Yeosang mumbled. He started feeling guilty for eating someone else’s lunch, so he paused and closed the box, offering it back to Wooyoung. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have eaten that much.”

“It’s fine, really,” Wooyoung chuckled nervously. “Plus, you look really hungry.”

“Do you have a joint with you right now?”

“What?”

“You know,” Yeosang looked around, even though they both knew there weren’t anyone else there, then looked at Wooyoung with slightly squinted eyes, lips turned into a playful grin. “Marijuana.”

“Uhm no,” Wooyoung replied, still nervous. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh you know,” Yeosang smiled, putting down the lunch box. “You’re one of those kids.”

Wooyoung kept quiet for a moment before remembering yesterday. “Right! About yesterday! That, that was a mistake! I-I wasn’t actually hanging out with those people, in fact, they’re just some second years from the club-”

“It’s okay, Wooyoung,” Yeosang said in an airy voice. “We all need a bit of high once in a while in our lives.”

Yeosang’s voice chilled Wooyoung’s bones, as if a different person had taken over him, someone Wooyoung hadn't met before. It scared Wooyoung slightly, but also piqued his curiosity. From this close, Wooyoung realized that sharp brows framed Yeosang’s soft eyes, and that his high cheekbones contrasted his hollow cheeks. What has the other gone through that Wooyoung doesn’t know about? 

Yeosang stood up and walked towards the exit door. He turned for a bit and nodded towards Wooyoung. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Uhm,” Wooyoung spoke up before Yeosang could exit. “Can I come here again tomorrow?”

Yeosang grinned. “You can come, but I can’t tell you if I’ll be here.”

“If I bring weed,” Wooyoung stuttered. “If I bring you a joint, will you have lunch with me here?”

Yeosang’s eyes widen, blood rushing to his face in embarrassment. Why did this random guy want to have lunch with him so badly? 

“Uhm, okay,” Yeosang said briefly before looking down to the floor and exiting the rooftop.

“Okay,” Wooyoung repeated to himself, looking back at the lunch box Yeosang had placed on the edge of the roof. The entire conversation felt like a dream sequence, but the boy smiled when he opened the lunch box to see the small lump of rice leftover. “Okay. Okay!”


	3. they call it space brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooyoung pulls San and Yunho into his adventure to find a joint while Mingi gets into even more trouble than he already was.
> 
> TW >> Bullying, rape threat, PTSD attack.

Yeosang’s mind went to the boy with the hooded eyes, asking if he can have lunch with him tomorrow. He felt his face flush at the thought and tried to calm himself down. What if he had bad intentions? The way he followed Yeosang all the way up to the roof was slightly creepy. But it was sweet that he asked permission to have lunch with him again. And the way he wanted to go away when Yeosang said he wanted some quiet. It was kind of cute.

Yeosang shook his head; he must be going crazy. A knuckle rasped on Yeosang’s table, snapping him back to reality. He looked up to see Mingi watching him with concern.

“You know, it’s weird to suddenly shake your head out of nowhere. It’s almost as weird as talking to yourself.”

“What is it called again when you romanticize someone who’s kidnapping you?”

“Stockholm syndrome?”

“Hm.”

“Yeosang, what kind of people are you hanging out with?” Mingi questioned.

“Oh, actually, you might know him,” Yeosang looked up excitedly, his eyes widened. “He’s in the baking club. Someone named Wooyoung.”

“I’m not in the baking club anymore,” Mingi told, looking out the class window. “I can do okay without them.”

“Aw man,” Yeosang whined. “Then where are you gonna get your stock?”

“They weren’t offering,” Mingi complained. “Anyway I didn’t make any friends either so I don’t know who this Wooyoung kid is. But if he stays in that club then he’ll probably be troublesome.”

“He said he’d get me some ‘green’ tomorrow,” Yeosang said teasingly. The next class was maths, so Yeosang started taking out workbooks from under his table. 

Mingi smirked. “If he’s getting anything, it’s not from the club.”

-

“Where the fuck are you going to get a joint from?” San almost shouted, but stopped himself when he remembered that they were still in the school compounds. Classes had ended and the three were huddled around one of the school fields’ benches. Baking club meetings (and basketball club meetings) were on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, so on this Tuesday afternoon they dwelled on Wooyoung’s little adventure on the rooftop. Truly, Wooyoung had set himself up for the impossible.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Yeosang is friends with Mingi,” Yunho mumbled.

“That isn’t even a problem right now,” San nagged. “You and your lover boy case is for next week. Right now it’s about  _ this _ boy and his lover boy.”

Wooyoung grinned. “You guys think I have a chance? You think he likes me too?”

“Woo, if you turn up tomorrow with no joint, he won’t like you,” San assured the other, putting a hand on his shoulder. Wooyoung pouted.

“I don’t think he’s the type to care though.”

“I have an idea,” Yunho piped in. “You said the second years were smoking one in the restroom yesterday, right? Maybe we can ask them where they get their supply.”

The three headed towards the restroom where Wooyoung made his encounter, and peeped in. The group of second years were there, as if in their own meeting, except smokier and stenched with the smell of pee mixed with bitter leaf burning. Wooyoung walked towards them, trying to hide his nerves.

“Hi guys,” Wooyoung greeted with a smile.

“Hey it’s the first year,” one of them greeted. “Here for another hit? I know, this shit’s addicting.”

“Actually, we’re here to ask if you could tell us where you get your supply,” Wooyoung started, his voice shrinking as he finished his sentence.

“Our supply?” the one who offered Wooyoung the joint repeated. The group bursted into laughter, startling the three. “You want to go straight to our supplier? You’d piss your pants if you went straight to them. But hey, there’s no wrong in learning early.”

“So you’re gonna tell us?” Wooyoung asked excitedly.

“Hell nah,” the second year replied. “Even if you manage to buy some without getting caught, would you have rolling paper? And even if you had rolling paper, would you know how to roll it?”

The three looked at each other in simultaneous cluelessness.

“I will offer you an easier way to get high. Here, I’ll roll you a joint, which would be enough for the three of you I’m sure, if you can do us a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Yunho asked nervously, one of his feet shifting slightly.

“Oh it’s nothing too hard,” the second year assured. “We just need you to steal a batch of brownies from the club.”

“What?” San almost whispered. He looked at the other two, who were also nervously looking at each other. 

“This one knows where the kitchen is,” the second year pointed at Wooyoung. “And there’s no club today. Those asshats keep extra batches in the cooler all the time, for ‘fun-time’ whenever they want it on campus. Just get one batch for us, and we’ll give you a joint.”

“If it’s that easy, why don’t you get it yourself?” Yunho questioned.

“Oh it’s too fun here by the window,” the second year smirked. “We don’t want to waste our time snooping around for brownies.”

“So there’ll be snooping around,” Wooyoung repeated.

“Do you want the joint or no?” the older asked, his voice turning hard, his eyes sharp on Wooyoung. Wooyoung kept quiet for a while before turning to the other two.

“I think this is the easiest way,” Wooyoung tried to convince them. “I only told you-know-who I’d bring one, singular, joint. We don’t need anything more.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” San told.

“Worse case scenario, we just don’t ever come to club meetings again,” Yunho said. “No biggie.”

“Okay,” San finally gave in. “Fine.”

“We’ll be back,” Wooyoung told the second years. As they exited the restroom they shouted a “good luck” their way. San’s stomach sank.

The kitchen was near the cafeteria, in the back past the designated shelves for used trays. Students would often use the kitchen for home economics classes, but it was open for club use as well. When Wooyoung tried the door, it was locked.

“Ahjumma,” Yunho called for the cafeteria lady who was carrying trays back to be washed. “Do you have a key to the kitchen?”

“Sorry, only teachers have access to that room,” the lady shouted back.

“Oh, thank you!” Yunho said. The three looked at each other.

“Do you think they knew about this?” Wooyoung asked.

“Does that even matter? We can’t get in and we don’t even have info on the supplier.”

“Wait, I can try something.” Yunho flipped his backpack to his front, reaching into his pencil box. He finally pulls out a paperclip and lets out a happy gasp. The other two shushed him, lowering his hand as they looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. The cafeteria lady worked on the trays by the sink in her kitchen, and the custodial workers were cleaning tables and floors; they were safe. Yunho bent the paperclip out of shape, making a long bendy metal piece. He then poked it into the door lock, shifting it around slightly while the others looked to see if anyone was looking. No one was. Finally, the lock shifted and the door opened with a clank. 

The three walked into the kitchen, making sure again that no one was around. The room was dark and they decided that the sunlight invading the room through the tinted windows was enough light to guide them around. They walked to the refrigerator and found about half a dozen batches of brownies, scattered around, each in their own plastic containers.

“You made these yesterday?” San asked Wooyoung.

“I was just mixing things,” Wooyoung mumbled. “I had no idea what was going on. Plus, there were like ten of us. I wasn’t alone.” 

“Okay, let’s just take one and get out of here,” Yunho whispered. “I’m worried someone’s gonna realize we didn’t have a key to get in.”

Wooyoung crouched to take a container near the bottom. He glanced and saw chocolate chip cookies, wrapped in cling film, stacked at the very bottom shelf. He looked up and when the other two weren’t looking, the boy slipped two pieces into his pocket. 

“Let’s go.”

The boys closed the door shut, making sure it didn’t look suspicious. They slipped the brownies into Yunho’s backpack and went back to the restroom, quiet during their walk there. When they arrived, the second years were silent. Yunho took out the container out of his backpack.

“Woohoo!” The second years started to cheer and clap. The three friends kept quiet, slightly annoyed.

“Can we get the blunt now?” Wooyoung asked, agitation obvious in his voice.

“Oh yes,” the second year that made the offer said. He took out a neatly rolled joint from his shirt pocket, handing it over to Wooyoung. "Here you go.”

Wooyoung reached out to get the joint, but as he was about to touch it the second year loosened his hold, letting the joint fall to the ground.

“Whoops.” The older stood up, his foot intentionally stepping on one side of the joint. “Gotta go.”

The group of boys jumped off the side of the window, walking away from the three. They jeered and laughed, waving the container of brownies in the air. Wooyoung stared at the joint for a second before picking it up from the floor with the tip of his thumb and index finger.

“This is so gross,” Wooyoung whined. The end where the filter was was squashed flat, the dirt from the bottom of the school shoes visible against the white rolling paper.

“It has piss stain on it now,” Yunho sighed.

“Well, you can still bring it with you,” San tried to comfort him. “I mean, you said you’ll bring a joint. You didn’t say it would be a usable one.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung sighed. “It’ll have to do.”

-

“Before you say anything, let me just tell you that I worked hard to get this,” Wooyoung started. Yeosang looked at him with curiosity, his eyes wide as usual, lips curved at the ends. Wooyoung sighed, pulling out a piece of folded tissue from the pocket of his shirt. He unfolded it in his palms, revealing the dirty joint. 

“Whoa, what happened there?” Yeosang asked, giggling.

“Institutional bullying,” Wooyoung replied monotonously. He looked up at Yeosang with hopeful eyes, making the other slightly nervous. “I hope this doesn’t change your mind.”

Yeosang chuckled. “I didn’t think you would have gotten it in the first place.”

“Really?” Wooyoung grinned. “Then why’d you come?”

Yeosang looked away nervously. “I always come here. Do you at least have lunch?”

“Yea, the usual. Rice and spam.”

“As long as there’s hot soup,” Yeosang replied, picking up the thermos from Wooyoung’s lunch bag and sipping from the side. Wooyoung watched curiously for a minute before Yeosang noticed the stare. “What?”

“I don’t know if I should ask but,” Wooyoung started, straightening his back. “Why don’t you have your own lunch pack?”

“I don’t have a mom to pack it for me,” Yeosang replied solemnly, looking back down at the lunch bag and reaching for the enclosed rice bowl. “And my dad’s usually too busy to pack me anything. He usually gives me extra allowance though. I make do.”

“I see,” Wooyoung said, almost a whisper. “Sorry ‘bout your mom.”

“No biggie,” Yeosang replied, trying not to think too much about it. He swallowed back tears that were starting to form with a mouthful of rice. His chest felt void but he wanted to distract himself from it. This is a problem. “Is the baking club fun?”

“It’s okay,” Wooyoung sighed. “I don’t think I’m going for another meeting though.”

“Because of the joint?” Yeosang smirked.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You did a lot, for the joint.”

“I did it for  _ you _ ,” Wooyoung’s voice raised. Yeosang bursted into laughter. Wooyoung watched in awe. Even while laughing, he looked as pretty as an angel; cheeks puffed, his eyes closed shut, head thrown back and hand over his opened mouth. He unknowingly smiled, and as soon as Yeosang realized this, he stopped laughing, blood rushing to his face. 

“What?”

“You’re really pretty.”

-

No one said anything when three third years grabbed Mingi by the arms and dragged him to the outdoor locker room. He tried not to shout and instead focused all his strength on wriggling himself out of their grasps but to no avail. Inside by the showers, Hoon was waiting. As the three older boys push Mingi down on his knees in front of one of the shower heads, Hoon twists the knob, pouring cold water on Mingi’s head, drenching his entire face, front of his torso, and knees. He let it run for a minute, Mingi quietly taking it in, not letting the older boys enjoy what was going on. Hoon turned the knob again, and the water stopped running.

“What did you use a whole brownie for?” Hoon asked.

“Huh?”

“Did you eat it with a bunch of first years?”

“What are you even talking about?” Mingi started, voice raised.

Hoon turned the knob, the cold water painfully falling on Mingi’s raised face. Mingi tightened his lip. When Hoon turned the shower off again, he took Mingi by the collar, bringing Mingi’s face closer to his. 

“You stole our brownies. A whole container.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingi spit back.

Hoon threw a fist over Mingi’s right cheek. Mingi felt the inside of his mouth tear, his face burning. “You’re really brave, aren’t you, Song? I wanted to let you go but you just made things worse.”

“I didn’t steal your fucking brownies, you cunt,” Mingi growled. 

Hoon threw Mingi on the floor and let the other boys kick him. Mingi curled on his side, holding back screams of pain. “Well then, I wonder why the kitchen door was unlocked when we got there this morning? And who did the lady from the cafeteria saw go into the kitchen yesterday; tall, broad shouldered, good looking, definitely a first year? Hmm, it sounds awfully familiar.”

Mingi laughed loudly, taking in the beating. “You think I’m cute,” he gasped, in between kicks. “You little bitch?”

Hoon’s foot landed right in front Mingi’s face. The beatings stopped, and Hoon came forward, sitting on Mingi’s chest. He took the boy’s face in his hands, turning it to face him. “You better be careful, pretty boy. Haven’t you heard of what happens in the boy’s shower rooms?”

Mingi kept quiet, trying to wriggle himself up, but they had beat the energy out of him, and Hoon's grasp was strong. The longer Hoon stared at him, the quicker Mingi breathed, fear building. When he started gasping for air, Hoon snickered, slowly turning into a maniac laugh. He looked up at the other boys, and the others laughed along. Hoon looked back at Mingi and laughed in his face, throwing the boy’s face back. The group walked away, Hoon still snickering to himself. Mingi laid there on the linoleum, trying to catch his breath. He stared at the dark ceiling, thinking about what had just happened and what could have happened but didn’t. His face was too numb for him to cry, and his body aching too much to move. He just breathed, and closed his eyes.

-

There was only one other tall, broad shouldered, good looking, definitely a first year boy that Mingi saw in the club meeting. He had seen him a few times while passing the class, and Mingi was almost 100% sure that that was the boy who actually stole the brownies. He didn’t know how to approach him though. He shuffled his feet as he waited outside class 1-1 the next day during lunch time. What would he say to him anyway? Hoon was already convinced that Mingi was the one who stole the brownies. The only way to reverse it was if this guy confessed that he was the one who stole it. So that’s what he’s going to do; tell him that he has to tell Hoon that he stole the brownies, not Mingi.

As Mingi made his first brave step into the class a shorter first year, eyes as sharp as an eagle’s walked in front of him. “Jung Yunho!”

“Choi San! It’s been awhile!”

“Ohoho! Been a good twenty four hours!” the other replied obnoxiously. Mingi stopped in his tracks, taking notes.  _ His name is Jung Yunho?  _

_ “ _ Where’s Wooyoung?” The name was familiar to Mingi; it’s the guy Yeosang was hanging out with, the kid who was also in the baking club. He lingered to listen.

“On a second date,” San told, opening up his containers.

“Looks like our little adventure paid off,” Yunho told.  _ Little adventure? _ Mingi thought.  _ Sounds suspicious. _ “I’m gonna miss him. Welp! Looks like it’s just the two of us now. How bout a movie this weekend?”

“This again?” San grumbled. “I told you I’m not interested in dating.”

“Is that Song Mingi?”

Mingi froze, blood rushing to his face. He slowly turned his face, looking into the classroom. Staring at him were two pairs of eyes, both with chopsticks in hands at a pause, curious of the stranger by the door. He nervously grinned in reply, raising a hand, then walked away. _ Fuck, how am I supposed to talk to that tall kid now? _ Mingi thought to himself as he walked back to his class. As he neared his class entrance, a boy rushed towards him from the flight of stairs. 

“Song Mingi!” the boy shouted, albeit being a foot away from him.  _ God, everyone’s going to know my name by the end of the day, _ Mingi grumbled in his head. “Song Mingi, you have to help,” he gasped.

“What happened?” Mingi mumbled, nervous of all the eyes looking at him.

“I don’t know! Something’s wrong with Yeosang,” the boy told, lowering his voice. Mingi’s eyes widened. He turned to a classmate.

“Go tell Mr. Kim that Yeosang is having an attack,” Mingi said firmly but softly. “Keep it low, okay?” He turned to the other boy. “You, you’re Wooyoung?”

“Yea,” Wooyoung told, his voice trembling slightly. 

“Where’s Yeosang?”

The two rushed to the rooftop, where Yeosang was lying on his side, shaking, his eyes distant and moist, breathing short and heavy. Mingi picked the boy up, setting him straight, then hugged him close, resting his head on the taller’s shoulder. Mingi laid a hand on the back of Yeosang’s head while the other hand patted his back. It made Wooyoung slightly jealous, but he kept quiet as he watched the two.

“It’s okay,” Mingi whispered. “It’s okay.”

Yeosang’s frozen face softened and his breathing slowed. The tears streamed down his cheeks as he closed them shut. Mingi then carried the boy, pulling one of Yeosang’s arms over his shoulder. He turned to Wooyoung.

“How did this happen?” Mingi asked.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung started. “We were joking around, and I sat on a broken chair. One of the legs broke and I fell, and that’s when he started hyperventilating.”

“Shit, that’s a major trigger,” Mingi said. “And you were on the rooftop too. Yeosang didn’t tell you about his condition?”

“What condition?” Wooyoung stuttered.

“And you left him here alone?” Mingi shouted.

“I was looking for help!” Wooyoung cried. 

“Well are you going to help me carry him down to the infirmary? He’s cute but he isn’t weightless.” Mingi asked. Wooyoung obediently walked towards the other, taking Yeosang’s other arm and slung it over his shoulder. Mingi’s expression softened. “You like Yeosang?”

Wooyoung looked up in surprise. 

“It’s okay,” Mingi told him. “You just have to be a bit careful with him. He looks like an angel, but he’s as fragile as glass.”


	4. broken doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho and Mingi get an official introduction to each other. Wooyoung invites San over for dinner with his family. Yeosang struggles to find the right words to tell Wooyoung.
> 
> TW >> underage drug use, intoxicated kissing

“You’re friends with Wooyoung?” Mingi started awkwardly. Across the bed where Yeosang lay asleep was Jung Yunho; tall, broad shouldered, good looking, definitely a first year. Two students had to watch over Yeosang while he was still unconscious. Class 1-1 was having a free period, and Yunho volunteered after finding out it was the boy his friend liked. He didn't think Mingi would be here as well.

“Yea,” Yunho replied. “And you’re friends with Yeosang.”

“You don’t sound surprised,” Mingi grinned cheekily. 

“I’ve been told,” Yunho replied monotonously. Mingi’s grin faltered. He cleared his throat, nervous of the other. He wanted to talk about the brownies but didn’t know how to start.  _ Maybe he’ll be nice about it, _ Mingi thought to himself.  _ I mean I can start nicely too. I mean, I have to start somehow. Okay, now. I’ll say something, now. _

“Uh-”

“The sexual tension here is suffocating,” Yeosang suddenly said, voice cracking from the slumber. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Mingi, who was staring at him in surprise, his face turning red. 

“W-what are you saying?” Mingi stuttered. “T-that’s not what’s going on!”

“Okay, sure,” Yeosang smirked, aware of the stranger staring at him. He catches a glance of the blue-black patch on Mingi's face. “Hey, where did you get that bruise from?”

“A third year punched me,” Mingi told blatantly.

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

Yeosang’s eyes darted to Yunho and back to Mingi, grinning slightly. 

“I’m not lying,” Mingi mumbled. “He thought I stole his club’s brownies. I told you bout the club, right? They really are a bunch of dickheads. But, honestly…”

Yeosang’s expression twisted into concern. “Something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Mingi brushed off.

“Should I get a teacher?” Yunho piped in, realizing that he was intruding on a private conversation. 

“Yea,” Mingi said, looking up at Yunho gratefully. “Thanks.”

-

“Song Mingi got punched by third years from the baking club,” Yunho blurted out to the other two when they met after school. His voice then falls to a whisper. “They thought he stole the brownies.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung cursed. “So we’re really not going back to the club huh?”

“Mingi was already in so much trouble,” San said. “I feel kinda bad.”

“Oh come on, he can take a punch,” Wooyoung groaned. 

“I don’t know,” Yunho mumbled. “I think he’s going through a bit more than we’re seeing. Anyway, since we don’t have to go to club anymore. Anyone up for ddeokbokki?”

“Sure,” Wooyoung replied briefly. “Well if he has a problem with it, he would’ve said something, right? He didn’t even tell me what’s wrong with Yeosang.”

“It was a panic attack,” San told. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yea but,” Wooyoung started. “What caused it? What's a  _ major trigger _ ? I should know these things before I date him. And Yeosang’s obviously not gonna tell me.”

Yunho watched as San’s expression darkened.  _ This idiot really has no idea, _ Yunho thought. He wondered if he should stay or leave them alone to talk it out. He didn’t need to wonder for long.

“Jung Yunho,” Mingi called from behind. The boy turned to see the taller, stationery near the school gate, a messenger bag slung across his shoulder. He looked calm and collected, different from when he was trying to talk back in the infirmary. It made Yunho slightly flustered. 

“Hey,” Yunho called back. 

“I need to talk to you.”

“What’s it about?” Wooyoung asked.

“None of your business,” Mingi spat. Wooyoung squinted his eyes. 

“I think it kind of is though,” Wooyoung replied. “I think you need to tell me what’s wrong with Yeosang, too.”

Mingi snickered. “Try saying that in front of him.”

“What?”

“I think you should ask Yeosang himself. About what’s ‘wrong’ with him. Anyway, can I talk to you privately, Yunho?”

“You better not ask him out on a date, because he likes Choi San,” Wooyoung blurted.

“Wooyoung!” San and Yunho exclaimed simultaneously. 

“What?” Wooyoung asked, completely clueless.

“What do you want?” Yunho grumbled at Mingi, walking back into the school. San too walked away from Wooyoung.

“See you tomorrow,” San said.

“What about ddeokbokki?” When the two friends didn’t reply, Wooyoung started walking alone, wondering if the day could get any worse. 

-

“I think you heard what I told Yeosang in the infirmary,” Mingi started. They sat on a bench in the empty locker room near the showers. All the sports clubs have started their practice, leaving the two alone. “That third years punched me because he thought I stole the club’s brownie.”

“Yea,” Yunho replied softly. 

“So uh, what they told me when I was accused was... that the cafeteria lady said he saw someone tall, broad shouldered, good looking, definitely a first year, going into the kitchen.”

“And he thought of you?” Yunho grinned.

“Do you disagree?” Mingi’s voice raised. 

“No no,” Yunho held back his smile. “Go on.”

“Well I didn’t steal his stinky brownies,” Mingi told firmly. “So I was wrongly accused. And the only other person in the club that I think would fit that description is you.”

“You think I’m good looking?” Yunho flashed his bright smile. It almost blinded Mingi.

“That’s beyond the point,” Mingi felt his heart pound in his chest. “I wanted to ask, if you really did steal the brownies. And if you did, then you should go tell Hoon himself.”

Yunho turned to the ground. “Did he beat you bad?”

“Are you scared of getting beaten?”

“A bit,” Yunho looked up at Mingi, his eyes squinting slightly. Mingi looked away. He tightened his lips and stood up, taking off his blazer. He then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down, revealing his back, bruised in black and blue. 

“If I can survive it, so can you,” Mingi told. 

Yunho looked away in guilt. He thought about it. Technically, he was only an accomplice. But he couldn’t rat out his friends, either. Still, it was better to go as a group then as one person. Mingi had to go through all that alone. He looked up at the boy who was buttoning his shirt back up. Yunho felt his face flush thinking of the boy's skin glistening under the dim lights. He cleared his throat and stood up.

“Are you going to tell Hoon?” Mingi asked, turning towards the other. Yunho got a glance of the blue-black patch on Mingi’s cheek. He couldn’t help but come closer and caress the bruise with his thumb. Mingi froze in place, feeling Yunho’s breath fall on his face, the tips of his fingers cold. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispered before walking away. Mingi couldn’t move, stunned at how handsome the taller was; eyes bright and round, nose tall but round. When Yunho fell out of his sight, he glanced at the shower floor where Hoon had pinned him.

If it was Yunho, Mingi wouldn’t have struggled.

Mingi shook the thought away, putting his blazer back on. He cursed when he realized that Yunho wouldn’t admit to Hoon that he was the one who stole the brownies. But Yunho didn’t explicitly say that he was the one who did it. Then why did he apologize if he didn’t? A train of thoughts ran through Mingi’s head as he walked back home. A buzz from his phone distracted him from it. It was a text from Yeosang.

_ Do you have anything we can get high on? Am at the hospital. So bored _

-

San couldn't avoid Wooyoung even if he wanted to. They were in the same class, and even sat next to each other. Yeosang's dad checked him into a hospital to make sure he's fine, so now Wooyoung's back to having lunch with them as well. The most San could do was give Wooyoung the cold shoulders, but even that doesn't last long. Wooyoung would make a dumb joke that would make San sputter a giggle before regurgitating an equally dumb response. After another comeback San would remind himself that he’s mad at Wooyoung, and stop talking again. It's like Wooyoung gets him, but doesn't, both at the same time.  _ Maybe he's just very, very dense, _ San thought. 

"You two okay?" Yunho asked, watching the two carefully. San was very obviously quiet and pouty about something, but Wooyoung's eyes widened at the question, surprised.

"Yea, we're fine. What's up?" he asked in reply.

Yunho squinted his eyes at Wooyoung. "Sometimes I wonder if you're stupid or blind."

Wooyoung turned to San, who only looked back, mouth full. He tilted his head at Wooyoung with a slightly clueless face, gesturing "what?".

"Hmm," Wooyoung turned back at Yunho who's now looking down in his own rice bowl. "What did Mingi talk to you about yesterday?"

"Nothing."

"Did you two make out?" San grinned playfully.

"Almost…" Yunho said under his breath.

"What?" Wooyoung exclaimed, eyes wide.

"We didn't. It's nothing. Well, it's about the brownies. But, I don't know."

"The brownies?" San asked. "Wait, Yunho. Did you tell him we did it?"

"No, no, I didn't!" Yunho told defensively. "H-he was beaten pretty bad for it, so I apologized. That's all."

"Why would you apologize?" Wooyoung asked. "He would definitely suspect you now!"

"I didn't say anything about us doing it, I promise," Yunho reassured, his voice becoming softer and softer. "I just felt bad, looking at his bruises. Who knows what's going to happen to him next, you know?"

"Well, we're not friends with him," Wooyoung started, playing with the chicken breast pieces in his lunch box. "We don't have to protect him."

"Why not?" Yunho asked. "I mean, we're the cause in the first place. We might as well help."

"Yunho, I know you like him," San started.

"You like Song Mingi?" Wooyoung asked, bewildered. He glanced at Yunho then at San, and back at Yunho. "I thought-"

"But we don't owe him anything," San continued, completely ignoring Wooyoung. "Plus, how do we know we can trust him? He might tell Hoon before we even get to Hoon ourselves."

"I don't know what to tell you guys," Yunho started.

"Is there more?" Wooyoung asked, mouth full of half chewed rice.

"He… Mingi already thinks I was the one who did it."

-

"You want it right now?" Mingi asked the boy in the bed.

"No one else is here," Yeosang said.

"Yeosang, smoke detectors."

"We'll smoke it by the window. Come on, I need some serious calming down to do," Yeosang whined. So they opened the windows wide and sat on the window sill. They watched the 12 story drop and gulped, but they had to do what had to be done. Yeosang pressed the joint between his lips and Mingi lit it with his bright green plastic lighter that he kept handy in his pocket. Yeosang took a hit and coughed a bit, but smiled at Mingi after. "Yay."

"Hope it works," Mingi told, taking the joint for himself, blowing smoke towards the trees in their view. "The dealer's kinda sick of me at this point, said I should find someone who'll accept payment in halves. But he owes my brother so he can't really refuse. Still, I get worried that he's giving me stale ones."

Yeosang took back the joint and took a few puffs.

"Hey, slow down," Mingi warned. Yeosang massaged his temple with his free hand. He was trying to hold back tears, and the burn in his chest helped. He took another puff.

"I totally embarrassed myself in front of Wooyoung."

"I'm sure he still likes you," Mingi told, unconvincingly. "He's an idiot, but he's not heartless."

"What am I going to tell him?"

"The truth."

"This is why we weren't friends in middle school," Yeosang mumbled. 

"He asked me the other day," Mingi said. "About what's… wrong."

"Oh." Yeosang paused for a while, wondering when the high was going to hit. "What did you say?"

"I said he should ask you himself."

"Fuck, Mingi. You couldn't make it easier on me?"

"Look, I'm not your love messenger, alright?" Mingi groaned, smoking the joint as if it's another cigarette, letting it hang on the edge of his lips. "If you really wanna hang out with him or date him or whatever you're gonna have to explain all the triggers and shit. He can handle it, I'm sure."

Yeosang stared into the distance, his mouth turned. His chest felt heavy but his head was starting to feel light and all he could think about was how pretty the pink clouds were, and imagined himself flying through them, with the birds that chirped and echoed in his ears. He sighed before stealing the joint from Mingi's mouth and taking another hit. He blew the smoke out the window then stood up, lying down on the bed.

"I'm dysfunctional, is what I'm going to tell him," Yeosang said firmly to Mingi.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Mingi's voice started to sound liquid in Yeosang's ears. "You're just human, cursed with the face of a doll."

"He said I'm pretty," Yeosang sighed. 

"Of course he did."

-

Wooyoung invited San over for dinner that night. "Mom's making beef wraps. You'll love it!" San was still mad at Wooyoung, but Wooyoung had apologized to Yunho about teasing him with San, and San took that as an improvement on Wooyoung's judgement. He also thought of this as Wooyoung's way of making it up to San. Plus, he missed Wooyoung's younger brother, Kyungmin, and Mrs Jung. He might as well get a fill of that beef.

Wooyoung lived in a 15 story apartment building, on the 8th floor. The moment San stepped into the messy apartment, Kyungmin started whooping and cheering, chanting "San hyung! San hyung!". San threw the boy into the air and complained about how heavy Kyungmin had gotten, greeting Wooyoung's mother, who was working the kitchen counters. 

"It's been a while," the middle aged lady smiled. San smiled back gratefully. It felt like home. 

"We got homework!" Wooyoung announced while pulling San by the sleeve. Kyungmin whined, but his mother stopped him from bothering the two any further.

Wooyoung hung his blazer and offered San a hanger for his. The room was clean and organized. All his books and comics were arranged neatly in a bookshelf, with a few strays on the floor next to his single bed. His desk was a mess, stationery cluttering it with notebooks stacked on one side, a small clock on the other. The bright florescent light and white walls made the room look bigger than it was, which is two Sans in width and one San in length. San watched as Wooyoung rummaged his desk drawer, finally pulling out a piece of cookie as big as Wooyoung's palm wrapped in cling wrap. Wooyoung showed it off to San, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You're going to ruin your appetite if you eat that now," San warned as he sat on Wooyoung's bed.

"I got this from the baking club," Wooyoung said, almost whispering. He came closer to San, unwrapping the cookie. "Heard these stuff can make you hungry or something. Want a bite?"

San smiled, thinking there's nothing wrong with a bite; the image of getting high didn't fit well with cookies in his head, so San broke himself a bit from the edge, and watched as Wooyoung broke a piece as well. They glanced at each other and mock-cheers with the pieces before throwing them into their mouths. Wooyoung wrapped the cookie back like a precious diamond and kept it in his drawers for safe keeping. San lied down on Wooyoung's bed and watched the ceiling fan turn.

"You still have the glow in the dark stars?" San asked. The plastic pieces were stuck in place on the ceiling, though fewer than what San remembered. He thought about how they climbed chairs, tiptoeing to stick the tiny stars and moons, double tape stuck on the other side, floor filled with white pieces of glossy paper from the back of the tape. That was 3 years ago. 

"Why take it down? It took forever to get it there," Wooyoung huffed. "But I think the glue is starting to wear off. Some nights the stars just land on my face when I'm sleeping."

San laughed at the thought, his nose bridge scrunching, dimples deep into his cheeks. Wooyoung imitated his expression when the star fell on his face; eyebrows raised, eyes blinking, mouth twitching, head thrown back. San laughed again. Wooyoung smiled at the reaction, then decided to lie next to San and stare at the same ceiling. San got a whiff of Wooyoung's sweat, and glanced over to look at the other's face, eyes hooded, beauty mark under his left eye, nose high, lips round and plump. San blinked slowly.

"What?" Wooyoung asked, grinning as he turned to San.

"This is dangerous," San told.

"Why?"

"I think I want to kiss you."

Wooyoung laughed, and with a big smile said "Do it!"

So San did. He stretched his neck and pecked the other boy's lips with his, feeling each other's soft and warm breaths. Wooyoung's smile softened when he realized what had just happened. He looked into San's eyes, and it held a look that Wooyoung had never seen before; an unreadable look, eyes slightly squinted, as if trying to tell Wooyoung a secret that he can’t voice. San flipped himself over, letting himself hover over Wooyoung, his right forearm framing Wooyoung’s torso, his left forearm framing Wooyoung’s reddening face.

"Can I kiss you again?" San asked, and Wooyoung nodded. This time, their tongues met, salty and wet. It was the first time Wooyoung had inhaled San's warm breath, and it was filled with lust. He kissed back, the taste of the other boy's tongue addictive. It felt really good, and Wooyoung wanted more, one hand pulling San in by the waist. They breathed heavily into each other, noses knocking every time they pulled back for a tiny gasp of air. 

"Wooyoung, San! Dinner's ready!" 

San snapped his head back, then sat up. Wooyoung watched San for a second before sitting up, pulling his feet under him. They were both flushed at the cheeks, quiet. 

"Um," Wooyoung started.

"I need to use the restroom," San announced quickly. "Y-you go ahead."

"O-okay," Wooyoung replied softly, watching the other walk out of the room. He stood up and looked in the mirror. His pupils were only slightly dilated. He slapped his cheeks slightly to rid off the redness, but it only worked a bit. His heart was slightly racing, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself, and his buddy downstairs. He cleared his throat and walked out bravely, acting as naturally as he could.

The moment he walked out of his room his mom called again, "Wooyoung!"

He smiled at her at the dining table, announcing his presence. She only gave him a glance, setting saucers filled with side dishes on the table.

"There you are," she said. "Go get the rice bowls from the kitchen."

Wooyoung went towards the kitchen counter, hoping no one noticed anything weird about him. He grabbed a tray with rice bowls already arranged in it and brought it to the table. San walked out of the restroom and Wooyoung glanced over. The boy looked as normal, just a bit quieter, like him. They were both trying to keep themselves saying something that would bust their high. Dinner went smoothly. Quietly.

Wooyoung went with San when he was leaving the apartment. 

"Thanks for the beef," San greeted as he put on his shoes.

"It was nice seeing you, San," Wooyoung’s mother replied. "Come by more often. Kyungmin misses you." San smiled a dimpled smile in return.

The two kept quiet in the elevator for the first four floors. The five seconds felt like a lifetime.

"That cookie was, um, something huh?" San chuckled nervously. Wooyoung and him were both somewhat sober now, their bellies filled with beef and rice and lettuce.

"Yea," Wooyoung chuckled back awkwardly. The elevator reached the ground floor and the two walked out quietly. Wooyoung blew air from puffed cheeks before asking, "So uh, we're cool right?"

"Jung Wooyoung," San called.

"Yea?"

"No matter what, even if you dated Yeosang, or if anything happened, you'll still be my go-to guy, right?" San’s eyes glistened under the white fluorescent light of the hallway, turning to glass from the moisture.

Wooyoung scoffed softly. "Choi San, no matter what, we'll always be friends.  _ Amicus usque ad aras _ , remember?"

" _ Ad aras _ ?" San asked, looking up at Wooyoung. He nodded at San assuringly.

" _ Ad aras. _ "


	5. protective services

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooyoung, San, and Yunho finds a way to help Mingi escape from the third years. Yeosang finally opens up about his past to Wooyoung.
> 
> TW >> bullying, death by suicide.

“All blood levels look normal, blood pressure is okay for now. He’s all good to go.”

Yeosang’s father looked down at him worryingly, patting Yeosang’s shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

“I felt okay before you warded me,” Yeosang replied, pulling his shoulder away from his dad’s touch. He looked out his window one last time before checking out. He imagined flying with the birds and Mingi watching from the window sill, a joint still burning in his mouth.

Yeosang was walking towards the cafeteria when he saw Wooyoung walking out of his classroom with San, going in the same direction as him. The boy stopped in his tracks and lingered, wondering if he should head back to his class. As he turned, he heard Wooyoung’s voice echoing the hallway.

“Yeosang!” he waved excitedly. Yeosang turned slowly and raised a hand at the other, smiling awkwardly. Wooyoung flapped his hand, calling Yeosang over. Yeosang hesitated, and just as he was about to make his way to the other he heard another voice calling for him.

“Kang Yeosang,” Mingi called from the classroom window. “Come have lunch with me. I have three rolls of kimbap today.”

“Oh,” Yeosang said softly. “Okay.” 

Wooyoung watched as Yeosang waved again at him and headed back to his classroom, towards Song Mingi. His smile turned into a pout. San pinched Wooyoung’s lower lip. 

“Come on, lover boy,” he said, leading the other towards Yunho’s table at the back of class 1-1. 

“Why’d you do that?” Yeosang hissed back in class 1-3.

“I thought I was saving you,” Mingi replied. “Your awkward ass still don’t know how to tell him, right?”

“Well now they’re going to think there’s something going on between us!” Yeosang whispered angrily.

“Oh,” Mingi said, his face blank. “I didn’t think of that. You really think so?”

Yeosang threw a whole cut of kimbap into his mouth, chewing quietly as a response.

“Yeosang’s eating lunch with Song Mingi today,” Wooyoung sighed loudly.

“Oh,” was Yunho’s only reply. Several thoughts ran through his mind, but he kept quiet.

“Yea, I mean, he should have days to hang out with his friends too, right?” Wooyoung faked a laugh. “It’s not like it’s been days since I’ve talked to him and the last time I saw him he was passed out on a bed after a fit, or anything like that.”

Wooyoung frowned as he ate his lunch, and the other two watched quietly, not sure if anything was going to comfort him at this point.

“You know what would be a good idea?” Yunho tried to break the silence. “If we  _ all _ ate lunch  _ together _ .”

“No,” Wooyoung and San said simultaneously. The two looked up at each other then went back to their lunches, Wooyoung still frowning, San making a small pout. They hadn’t talked about what happened back in Wooyoung’s room. It was in their minds, lingering, but they had a silent agreement to never mention it again after the conversation in the elevator. For the sake of  _ amicus usque ad aras _ .

“Okay,” Yunho said slowly. “Anyone know what we should do about Song Mingi?”

“You guys know a place we can bury a body?” Wooyoung joked. No one laughed. San knew that Wooyoung didn’t mean what he said, but it was even harder to hear after seeing Mingi being punched right in front of their faces.

The three were on their way to their usual ddeokbokki stall when they heard a ruckus in one of the alleyways just a few blocks away from their school. They turned their heads to see three third years beating up a familiar face. Yunho was the first to run towards the crowd. San and Wooyoung hesitated, but as they looked at each other it was clear; they couldn’t leave Yunho. And they couldn’t leave Mingi either; he’s getting beaten because of them, after all. 

“What are you guys doing?” Yunho shouted at the three older boys. They only smirked, one of them landing one more kick on Mingi’s torso. Yunho’s eyes darted at Mingi, observing the damage; his nose was bleeding, bruises on his face. His clothes stained from blood and dirt, and who knows what goes on underneath the uniform. Yunho’s breath started to quicken, his heart beating hard on his chest.

“Who are you to know?” one of the three asked. Yunho decided that they weren’t worth the talk, pushing them aside to get to Mingi. One of the bulkier boys grabbed Yunho by the forearm, stopping him.

“Mind your own business, kid,” he said, his voice low and burly.

“Song Mingi!” Wooyoung shouted from behind. It froze the others in their places, watching Wooyoung run to the one furthest to them and punching him in the face. He turned to the taller on the ground. “Get out of here!”

Yunho then grabbed the bulky boy’s wrist and twisted it. He let go of Yunho's forearm in pain. San took the opportunity to kick the one nearest to him in the groin, causing the boy to curl. Mingi scrambled to his feet, running as fast as he could with the pain. The bulky boy swung his fist at Yunho’s head, but he quickly dodged it, running after Mingi. The other two didn’t miss a beat, sprinting behind Yunho. They kept running until they reached the main road, where they couldn’t hear footsteps behind them anymore. Sweat dripped down their backs, droplets visible on their forehead. They panted, standing near a bus stand where a handful of people were waiting, watching them in curiosity. San, reading the situation started walking back towards the school, leading the other three. When they were far enough from others, San finally spoke up.

"Why were they beating you up?" San asked.

"How the hell would I know," Mingi mumbled bitterly. "I spoke up once during the meeting and left them alone since and now I'm a moving target."

The crowd kept silent. 

"So you really didn't steal the brownies?" Mingi finally asked Yunho, his voice raspy but gentle. Wooyoung and San stiffened, and Yunho only sighed. 

"I think we need to talk."

Back in the school compounds, the four sat on a bench at the school field. Mingi waited for one of them to start the conversation, but all they did was look at each other, no one wanting to say the wrong thing. 

“Are we going to start talking or…” Mingi murmured. 

“Can you give us a minute?” Wooyoung stood up, walking away. The other two followed behind, more than willing to leave the awkward situation.

“So what do we tell him?” San whispered.

“Nothing,” Wooyoung whispered back. “We can’t let him know that we’re the actual cause to his problems. We can’t trust that he won’t tell on our asses to Hoon either. So we don’t tell him anything.”

“But what about the beating?” Yunho asked. “We have to do something about it. Like, a protective service or something.”

“For what?” Wooyoung asked back. “For feeling guilty? It’s suspicious as fuck.”

“We have to make him give us something back,” San suggested. “Nothing big, but just enough for it to make it seem worthwhile.”

Yunho blinked. “Okay, but what?”   
  
The three came back to Mingi and gave their proposal.

“A protective service?” Mingi repeated, not entirely convinced in the idea. “We don’t even know each other. What do you guys want from me?”

“Lunches with Yeosang are for me and me only,” Wooyoung demanded. Mingi rolled his eyes.

“Okay, whatever.”

“I heard that you have sources. For illegal substances,” San said, voice slightly shaking as he said it. “I want in.”

Mingi looked the other in the eyes. San's sight was locked on Mingi. He was serious. 

“Okay.”

“And for me,” Yunho started, taking a deep breath. “A ddeokbokki date.”

-

The next day, Mingi sat down with San and Yunho for lunch. Mingi unwrapped his kimbap, revealing neatly cut rolls. San ate his lunch quietly, stealing pieces of chicken from Yunho’s box, and Yunho let him. It was a bit different, but it was part of the deal. They can’t let Mingi out of their sight, at times when Mingi would usually be alone. Mingi was uncomfortable about it at first, but considering the amount of bruises he was starting to collect like a hobby, he thought it was for the best.

“Don’t your parents get worried about the bruises?” Yunho asked at a whisper.

“They work late,” Mingi explained, munching on his food. Right now he has a bandage over his nose and a blue mark under his eye, cuts near his lips. “Most mornings they’re already gone before I wake up. And most nights they’re still not home when I get back. They leave this,” he points at his lunch, “and it’s a job well done as parents. Oh, and some pocket money.”

“So that’s why you can get away with stuff,” San started, suggesting the recreational drugs. 

“I learned from my brother,” Mingi smirked. “He’s free now though, in college, doing whatever he likes. Economics, or something basic like that. My parents don’t care, as long as he doesn’t drop out. It was a miracle he got in in the first place.”

San watched Mingi’s kimbap rolls. If it was Wooyoung’s he would’ve stolen one. He thought about Wooyoung finally growing out of him; no more home visits, no more secret crushes, no more fighting over the last piece of spam. Just like the glow in the dark stickers, he was loosening his grip, moving on, but San was still clinging to the only kid who wanted to be his friend three years ago. 

Wooyoung got his part of the deal as well. Yeosang was still trying to avoid him, making a sharp turn when he saw Wooyoung peep from outside his classroom to see if the boy he liked was finally heading out to the cafeteria. Wooyoung jumped out of his seat and jogged to Yeosang, grabbing his shoulder when he reached him, just in time before he got back to class. Yeosang turned his lowered head slowly, not knowing if he should say anything.

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung called. “You have to tell me what happened.”

They went to the rooftop, spreading one of the cloths that were left behind by the door on the floor. They then sat around it, laying out Wooyoung’s lunch on the cloth. Wooyoung watched as Yeosang pulled out his chopsticks to get a bite of rice. Yeosang looked up as he chewed, guilt in his eyes.

“You can’t keep avoiding the topic,” Wooyoung sighed. 

“I’m not,” Yeosang defended himself. “I’m trying to arrange my words and sentences.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t change what I think about you.”

“What, a pretty, perfect little doll that you can look at everyday?” Yeosang started to feel annoyed. “I’m not perfect. I’m just human.”

“I-I know that,” Wooyoung replied, slightly startled by the outburst. “I-I just wanted to tell you that I can accept whatever’s… wrong.”

“So you do think of it as an error, then? A glitch in my system?”

“Yeosang, what’s going on? Why are you being like this?”

“Like what? An annoying bitch?” The anger in Yeosang’s eyes turned to moisture, and Wooyoung fell silent. Was there anything that he could say to make things better?

“Okay, you know what. Don’t tell me then,” Wooyoung looked Yeosang in the eyes. He was hurt, but he can tell that Yeosang didn’t want to have this conversation either. “You don’t have to tell me. We’ll just… pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want.”

Yeosang fell silent, not knowing if he should say anything else. He continued to eat the food sprawled in front of him, breathing back in the tears that had accidentally formed.

“You’re feeling better now though?” Wooyoung asked carefully, watching as Yeosang picked on his spam. His hair fell just above his eyes, and his eyelashes curled gently against it. Wooyoung remembered why he fell for Yeosang. 

“You sound like my dad,” Yeosang groaned. “I’m fine.”

"Okay, if you say so," Wooyoung replied in a half-whisper. He jogged his head a bit to think of a topic, and thought about Mingi. "Did you know that Mingi's getting bullied lately?"

"We didn't really get a chance to talk bout that yet," Yeosang told. "Why? Did something serious happen? He was fine in class. Well, he looked fucked up though."

"Yea, makes me wonder why no teacher had questioned him about it," Wooyoung thought about it for a moment. "Anyway, so my friends and I decided we'd do a sort of protective service for him. Isn't that cool?"

"Your friends? San? And that Yunho guy?"

"You know them?"

"Mingi has a crush on Yunho."

"What? Really?" Wooyoung gushed. "Yunho likes him too! Oh my god. This is crazy."

"Hold your horses," Yeosang warned. "You better not do anything to ruin that."

"What do you mean? I won't ruin it!" Yeosang looked at Wooyoung suspiciously, eyes squinting. "I won't! Okay I'll keep completely quiet about the entire matter. Will not say a single word about it to them. Promise."

"Good." Yeosang thought about San. Wooyoung's said that name a lot. "You're close to this San person?"

"Yea! We've been close since the first year of middle school. We're basically inseparable."

Yeosang hummed at the idea. A childhood best friend.  _ I guess that’s Mingi to me, _ Yeosang thought to himself. Except, they’re not exactly inseparable. Or best friends.

“I’m surprised though,” Yeosang continued. “Why do you guys want to help Mingi? You barely even know him.”

“You know. Just because,” Wooyoung’s voice started to grow smaller. “We’re good people, who care about their friends.”

“Friend?”

“Classmate.”

“Hm.” Yeosang looked up at Wooyoung with a grin. “You have a secret.”

“So do you.”

“Guess we’re keeping secrets from each other now.”

“You started it, Kang Yeosang.”

-

Mingi was waiting for Yunho after school. It was time for their promised first date, and Mingi was nervous. He tried to act cool about it yesterday, but it might have failed when he stuttered his "okay" to the request. Yunho only smiled back satisfactorily. He didn’t want anything from Mingi other than a simple date, and Mingi too didn’t think of it as a bad idea, but it was still nerve racking. Mingi hadn’t been on a date that wasn’t part of a dumb dare back in middle school, so he wasn’t sure how he would act. And the way he acted in the infirmary worried him even more. Jung Yunho made him  _ feel things _ and that might not be entirely a good thing to Mingi.

Soon the taller walked out of his classroom. He was only slightly surprised when he saw Mingi was already waiting for him, his ears turning slightly red, his puppy smile appearing. A few others from class 1-1 said their goodbyes to Yunho and Yunho waved back, then turned to Mingi. 

“You ready?” Mingi asked.

“Yea, let’s go.”

As they walked out of the school the corner of Yunho’s eyes caught sight of the three third years who were beating Mingi yesterday. He looked away quietly, not mentioning it to the other. He felt the three pairs of eyes burning a hole at him, but he stopped himself from looking back, his sight locked to the ground in front of him.

“Something’s weird,” one of them whispered to the other two. 

“We better tell Hoon,” the burly one commented.

At the ddeokbokki stall Mingi didn’t know what to say. Yunho did most of the talking.

“You’ve been friends with Yeosang for a long time?”

“We were just classmates back in middle school,” Mingi told in between chews. They both held paper cups filled to the top with rice cakes and fish cakes slathered in red gochujang sauce.

“You seem close though,” Yunho suggested, cheeks puffed with food.

“We’re the only ones from that middle school, so.” Mingi paused. “I guess we became close because of that.”

“So… there’s nothing going on between you two?”

Mingi looked up at the other. His expression seemed unbothered, but his ears were visibly red. Mingi grinned. 

“No, no, we’re just friends. Besides, Yeosang has Wooyoung.”

“You think there’s a chance between those two?”

“Wooyoung seems a bit too outspoken but he's trying. Yeosang likes the effort, I think.”

“What about San?”

“What  _ about _ San?”

Yunho pouted.  _ No one else has noticed then,  _ he thought to himself. He felt bad for the guy, but didn’t really know how to help, so he changed the subject.

“Why do you think San’s trying to get into like, weed and stuff?”

Mingi thought about it. “There could be a lot of reasons. For me it's escapism. No emotional support from family, no friends. It’s the only thing keeping me from feeling like I’m all alone in this world. Maybe San’s trying to escape something too.”

Yunho stared at the other for a few moments. Mingi only looked at the ground. Both of them were leaning on the wall outside of the ddeokbokki stall, and Yunho felt like Mingi’s slowly opening up to him, in his own way. 

“You’re not alone,” Yunho whispered. “Not anymore.”

Mingi looked up at the other, who avoided the eye contact, going back to his cup of spicy rice cakes. Mingi felt his throat tighten but he held himself, hoping that the date would just end normally. He needed normal.

From afar four pairs of eyes watched. The shortest among them looked away after recognizing the taller. He smirked to himself, putting pieces of a puzzle together in his head. “Looks like we got the wrong tall, broad shouldered, good looking, definitely-a-first-year boy.”

-

San asked Wooyoung what his plan was for the rest of the day when the last bell rang. Wooyoung smiled cheekily at his friend in response.

“Yeosang asked me to come over to his place today,” he told, slightly bragging. San only smiled softly. A part of him wanted to cry, and he didn’t know why. Wooyoung rummaged through his backpack and showed San a peek of the chocolate chip cookie from when San came over. While San thought of their kiss, feeling blood rush to his face, Wooyoung only grinned. “If I get the chance I might share this with him. Who knows, you know?”

San had a million thoughts rush through his head. Who knows what? That they too, will share a kiss like him and Wooyoung did? San felt anger seep through his veins as the image passed his brain. He doesn’t know this Yeosang guy well, but he already hated him. That weed cookie should be his. He needed it more than Yeosang. His dry throat kept him quiet, frozen in place with his fists rolled, standing by his desk as Wooyoung said his goodbyes and rushed out of class. It took awhile for San to let out a heavy sigh and calm himself, heading back home to nothing. High school sucks.

Yeosang’s apartment was in a relatively nice neighbourhood, the buildings newer than Wooyoung’s apartment complex, and just as tall. The corridors were kept clean, concrete and grey, their neighbourhood rules a lot stricter than Wooyoung’s, he believed. Upon arriving at his floor, Yeosang’s chatter started to slow, a nervous tension filling the air. When Wooyoung stepped into Yeosang’s apartment, Yeosang kept quiet, standing still at the entryway.

“Are we going to hang out here?” Wooyoung joked. 

Yeosang pointed at the ceiling in front of him, in the living room.

“Everyday, I see my mother hang from that ceiling.”

Wooyoung kept quiet for a while, until Yeosang dropped his arm.

“W-what do you mean? There’s nothing there.”

“When I was eleven, my mom hung herself. We lived somewhere else back then, but I was back from school. Like right now. No one else was around, just me. And I was the one who found her. I heard a chair falling from outside, and when I came in, I saw my mom choking, dying. I screamed, but no one heard me. I watched my mom’s corpse for four hours before my dad finally came home.”

Wooyoung was frozen in place. He thought of what to say, but considered that it was best not to say anything. The air in the room was cold, and he had hairs on the back of his neck standing, imagining the body hanging in front of them. Yeosang didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whispered.

“There are triggers,” Yeosang sighed. “That you should know about, before we… see each other.”

Wooyoung felt his face flush at the statement. A turmoil of feelings rushed through his veins, from the discomfort of knowing Yeosang’s past, to the fear of the burden that he would be holding for the future, to realizing that this is what needs to be done if he really wanted to be with Yeosang. He thought about Mingi smirking when he asked him what was wrong with Yeosang, and how he said he should ask Yeosang himself. It felt like a challenge, like someone had told him that he can’t handle the truth. So Wooyoung toughened his heart, straightening his posture. The taller turned to him, his expression soft but sad, looking for something on Wooyoung’s face that he might not have found yet. Wooyoung felt like crying watching him, but he needed to be brave. He reached out to hold Yeosang’s cold, shaking hand.

“I can handle it.”


	6. your choice of consumption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San is forced to face what he truly feels about Wooyoung.
> 
> TW >> underage drug use

“Yeosang told me,” Wooyoung told Mingi, almost at a whisper. They were on a bus together, on their way to school, as a part of the deal. Wooyoung and Mingi took the same bus to school but often took them at different times, hence they had never actually met on the bus. They agreed that Wooyoung would be in charge of making sure Mingi wasn’t alone on his way to school, planning the bus that they would take everyday to make sure they don’t miss each other. They stood near the exit door, arms raised, holding onto the hanging handles. Mingi glanced over at Wooyoung, then looked out the bus window. Yeosang finally found the right words.

“You still plan on seeing him?” Mingi asked.

“Yea,” Wooyoung answered, determined. “I can handle it.”

“Okay,” Mingi sighed. “Take care of him for me. Since I can’t even look after my own ass.”

San didn’t greet Wooyoung when he walked into class. Wooyoung waved at San and San nodded back, not really looking at the other, flipping pages of his textbook and outlining random words with a pencil. 

“So something happened yesterday,” Wooyoung whispered to San.

“Oh yea?” San still didn’t look up. Honestly, he didn’t want to know.

“I’ll tell you guys after school.”

Of course, Yunho has to be in on it now too. No more secrets between  _ just _ Wooyoung and San. San kept quiet, not saying another word to Wooyoung for the rest of the day. In class 1-3, Mingi passed Yeosang and patted his head.

“Seems like he’ll take care of you,” Mingi mentioned, stopping at Yeosang’s table before heading to his at the back of the class.

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Yeosang told. “I like him, and so I tell him. That’s all it is.”

“Okay,” was Mingi’s only reply before heading to his desk. Yeosang rolled his eyes back to the textbook on his desk, eyebrows furrowed. 

At lunch, Wooyoung asked Yeosang how much he knew about what was going on with Mingi.

“He hadn’t told me much about it, actually,” Yeosang pondered out loud. They were sitting on the raised edge of the roof, letting the wind of the fall blow their tousled hair out. “Is it bad? Do you know why they’re targeting Mingi?”

Wooyoung hesitated, wondering if he should tell Yeosang the truth, since Yeosang already told his truth. He stopped himself, knowing that Yeosang would feel guilty that this all started with Wooyoung trying to get him a joint.

“No, I don’t know why.”

“Oh.”

“But it's pretty bad, so I even have morning shifts as part of the protective service,” Wooyoung grinned, trying to change the subject. “Why don’t you take the bus with us?”

“I like coming early,” Yeosang told, taking a gulp of soup from Wooyoung’s thermos. “I can buy breakfast and eat alone in class before everyone comes in. It's easier to handle when it gets louder gradually.”

“That makes sense,” Wooyoung nodded. Loud noises weren’t a major trigger, but it can cause flashes when it’s too sudden, Wooyoung remembered from yesterday. “Well I’ll just have to force Mingi to take the earlier bus with me then!”

“Don’t,” Yeosang laughed. “Mingi will hate that. And you’ll hate when he’s late.”

Wooyoung puffed his cheeks. “I don’t know if I’m dating Mingi or you now.”

“Me,” Yeosang smiled. “You’re dating me.”

Wooyoung’s heart missed a beat, looking up to see the other looking at him with soft eyes. The two kept quiet for a bit, eyes observing each other’s face. Yeosang’s finger intertwined with Wooyoung’s, and so Wooyoung leaned in closer, reaching for the other’s lips with his own. They meet halfway, the kiss soft and warm. Yeosang pulled in closer, latching onto Wooyoung’s hand now, angling his torso towards the other before kissing him again, their tongues reaching for each other. Yeosang’s tongue was cold, and it craved Wooyoung’s warmth. As Yeosang pulled him in, an image of San on top of him flashes in Wooyoung’s brain. His eyes open slightly to see Yeosang instead, his lips loosening from the other. Yeosang opened his eyes, looking at Wooyoung curiously.

“Uh,” Wooyoung started, sliding away from Yeosang, his heart almost jumping out of his chest. Yeosang kept quiet, looking at the ground next to Wooyoung’s feet, feeling warmth shoot up his spine. A thousand thoughts went through his head. He felt so stupid, thinking that that was what the other wanted, because that’s what he wanted. Maybe Wooyoung didn’t want it, or maybe Yeosang did something wrong, but he didn’t know what it was.

“I-it’s okay,” Yeosang stuttered. “S-sorry.”

“N-no, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung replied. “Sorry, I-I was out of it.”

“Oh. Um,” Yeosang started putting things away, his ears turning red from embarrassment. “I-I think I should go.”

“Yeosang, I-”

“I- We- I-I’ll talk to you soon.”

Wooyoung watched Yeosang leave unwillingly. It was like torture, but he didn’t know what he was feeling. Why did he think of San? Why did he pull back? He wanted that kiss but he acted differently. He held his forehead in his palm, staring down at the concrete floor below him.

Yeosang waited by the rooftop exit door, darkness befriending him. He waited for Wooyoung to come after him, to kiss him again, to say he’s sorry, but he didn’t. Yeosang’s chest felt hollow, and his ears felt warm. How can liking someone hurt this much?

-

“That sounds really harsh,” Yunho commented after a few quiet moments between them. They were walking to their bus stand, agreeing that they’d take a break from the ddeokbokki place until they can make sure Mingi’s okay. Mingi was meeting San today for their promise, and the three had a bit of time to talk about Yeosang. Wooyoung hadn’t been able to look San in the eyes, and even though San was the one who was avoiding him first, he was more aware of Wooyoung’s awkwardness. It only started after lunch, so San suspected something had happened. He wouldn’t bet on Wooyoung telling him any time soon, so San just kept quiet.

“Yea, I’m glad he told me though,” Wooyoung sighed. “It’s something serious and he trusts me. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” Yunho reassured. He looked up at San, who was looking the opposite way, maybe avoiding the topic, maybe looking for Mingi. Yunho hadn’t been able to talk to Mingi alone since yesterday’s date, but he’s okay with it. Some space is good. Still, he can’t help but feel knots in his stomach when he finally spots the tall, lanky boy from afar. He raised a hand at the group, and Yunho sprung up, waving back with a big smile. Mingi smiled back, then turned to San.

"Ready?"

"Sure," San replied quietly, walking away. The three watched San as he walked down the sidewalk. Yunho elbowed Wooyoung.

"What happened between you two?" he hissed.

"N-nothing," Wooyoung stuttered, not convincing the other two.

"I better go," Mingi told. "See you guys." 

Yunho grabbed Wooyoung's arm before he could leave. Wooyoung looked up at him, and Yunho saw that something changed in his usually bright and cheerful friend.

"I know things are changing but," Yunho started, then looking away, not sure if he should be saying this. "San was there from the start. Give him some attention, at least."

"I give him attention," Wooyoung said defensively. Yunho shook his head, letting go of Wooyoung's arm. 

"Do you?"

-

Mingi and San arrive at an old house in a neighborhood a bus ride away from school. It was nearer to Mingi's house, so he could walk there any time he would like. Mingi remembered days he walked into this neighborhood with his brother when he was still a kid, when their parents told him to follow his brother whenever he goes out. Their parents didn't know the type of people Mingi's brother was hanging out with, and it didn't bother Mingi. He liked his brother's friends, and he liked the feeling of smoking with them, even as a middle schooler. They never got caught; no one bothered to save the teenagers of that neighborhood, abandoned and murky, black as charcoal amidst the shiny silver Seoul city. They had to save themselves. 

Mingi pushed his hand through the metal grill and rasped his knuckle on the wooden door. "It's Song." They waited a few moments before the door separated slowly at the side, the daylight falling onto an eye observing the pair. It fell on San suspiciously.

"Who's this?" the voice asked, nasally with a hint of anger.

"Call him San. He's with me."

"Appreciate the thought but we don't need new high school customers."

"Would you say that to my brother, hyung?" Mingi asked. The voice answered with a grumble before widening the gap of the door and unlocking the metal grill. Mingi gestured so San could walk in first but San shook his head no. Mingi tightened his lips before stepping inside, leading the other. The house didn't need blinds; there was minimal ventilation, and minimal source of lights. The first thing that caught San's eye was the dining table lit under one fluorescent light fixture hanging from the ceiling. It was topped by many suspicious substances, from white to dark green to crystal blue to pills of assorted colors. Money stacked on one corner, a tool box next to it closed shut. He tried to look away, but the rest of the house had very little to look at; a laptop charging on the kitchen counter, playing a video of some youtuber doing commentary while playing a video game, delivery boxes by the door ready for pickup, smothering the entire house with soy sauce scent, and one door leading to what San assumed was the bedroom. There was no one else around, at least not in sight. 

"Just the usual?" the shorter man grunted.

"Yea," Mingi replied briefly. "Hey let's chat for a bit."

"What, you don't have friends to hang out and share a blunt with?" The nasally voice sounded bitter, as if the entire world was against him. He wore a white tank top with dark blue pants and house slippers. San had been waiting by the door, not sure if he should follow Mingi's suit and step in with shoes on or take them off. When Mingi took a seat around the dining table, he waved San over, making him panickingly step in. "Oi, oi, what's this, the playground? Take off your shoes!"

San hesitated, but Mingi ignored the instruction. "We won't be long. Just pack the stuff and I'll talk. San here, he would like your services. What do you like, San? Edibles? Pills?"

"I-I don't really smoke so…"

"So no raw shit. Don't give him meth or crack, don't suggest to him stuff he never asked for, treat him like one of us. Got it?"

"I almost forgot that you have a god complex," the man replied. He was spooning some dried leaves shaved to small bits into a plastic bag that he had placed on a kitchen size weighing scale. He turned to San, expression softening. "You seem like a good kid. Call me Jun. I know Mingi isn't good at ethics but I grew up with him and his brother. Anyway I know you'll be paying full price, not like this one over here."

"Give him a student discount too!" Mingi exclaimed. "Don't make him pay for your cheap shit." 

"I miss your brother," Jun grunted, sealing the bag. "At least he appreciated my cheap shit."

"Hey, I appreciate it. Why else would I come here?"

"Because you're underage and know no one else?"

The two bantered for a while, talking about old times and unfamiliar names. San listened, making his own hypotheses about the events that they speak of. Soon Jun threw the sealed bag on the table and Mingi caught it, in its place he left a couple of bills.

"Anything for him? As an intro." Mingi nodded towards San. 

"What can I do to help you heal?" Jun grinned sinisterly. 

"Do you have anything to wound a broken heart?" San blurted. His cheeks flushed when the other two started laughing. After a moment, Jun reached into his refrigerator. He pulled out three cling-wrapped bars of brownies, each with two off-brand M&M’s flourishing its top.

“I don’t know how serious it is but I think these are good for a start. Free of charge. Just hit me up if you need anything more.”

San nodded, observing the tape with a phone number at the bottom of each bar as he put them in his backpack. He felt a thrill, but also a small cloud of fear encroaching his head as he heard the words “anything more”.

“Well, gotta bounce,” Mingi sighed, almost literally jumping out of his seat.

“Nice seeing you too, Song,” Jun grumbled. Mingi just smirked at him, walking away, San following behind. “Nice meeting you, San.”

San turned to thank the man, but when he looked into Jun’s eyes, he could see his eyes, dark and dilated, a grin lingering on his face. San said a quiet “thanks” before turning away, closing the door behind him shut. His sight flickered to Mingi, who seemed unbothered. He looked at San curiously, then asked “You want to try a smoke?”

In Mingi’s apartment, everything felt quiet and still. Everything was in its place, almost untouched, a sheet of dust forming on surfaces, the floors swept clean by the house slippers the two had exchanged in place of their sweaty school shoes. Mingi opened his window wide the moment they get in, then closed his room door. He undressed his coat and blazer, gesturing that San do the same. As San put down his backpack, Mingi threw the bag he had just gotten from Jun in his closet, then reached for a half-used blunt from inside his desk drawer. He lit it with his bright green lighter, taking a smoke, then passing it to San before taking a seat on his bed. San gulped, eyes flickering.

“Relax,” Mingi mumbled. “You’ve been high before, right? Just another way to take it.”

San thought about the consequences of his last high, and felt embarrassed. The blunt was already in his hand, so he took a hit. The smoke tried to enter his trachea, and by reflex he almost rejected it, but inhaled it by force instead. He coughed a bit, the first taste itchy, but he took another hit, and it felt more familiar.

“You’re a natural,” Mingi complimented. “Don’t take it too fast though, you might throw up.”

San stretched his lips, not sure what to think of that. Mingi lied on his bed, and San, unsure of where he should place himself, sat on the chair by Mingi’s desk. He started feeling drowsy, and observed the boy next to him. They were almost strangers, but Mingi willingly brought him to his apartment, no questions, and told Jun to treat him like ‘one of them’, whatever that meant. San wondered if Mingi had ulterior intentions or if he was just naturally a good and trusting person. Maybe San looked too naive to be suspicious of. His mind wandered off to Jun, the sinister grin lingering on his face. He was nice to San, but did  _ he _ have ulterior motives?

“Hey, don’t just keep quiet,” Mingi drawled. “I might doze off if you do. If you’re not gonna say anything, leave.”

“Oh, um, sorry,” San jumped. “So… you and Yeosang were friends from middle school?”

“Boring,” Mingi replied. “Why are you suddenly so interested in drugs?”

San felt warmth shoot up his spine at the question. Even he didn’t have the answer to this.

“You trying to escape something?” Mingi prodded on. “What do you mean a broken heart? You have feelings for someone?”

“Uhm,” San mumbled, Wooyoung appearing in his mind. Did he have feelings for Wooyoung? Is that what all the jealousy is? Is that what Yunho meant about him refusing to date? Is that why he kissed Wooyoung? “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If you’re already broken hearted, that means you’re neck deep, my friend,” Mingi drawled again. “You gotta confirm your feelings, make sure they feel the same, and if they don’t, it’s not worth the pain. Who is it? Someone I know?”

“Woo…” San mumbled unintentionally. Mingi shot up from his lying position, looking at San with wide eyes. San glanced at Mingi, his cheeks flushed, then looked away. Mingi blinked. “D-did I say that out loud?”

“That’s, uh,” Mingi blinked again, wordless. His thoughts went to Yeosang, who also felt the same way about the same person, but without the years of history. Mingi considered the information he had, weighing the probabilities and consequences, continuing his silence.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ tell anyone,” San growled, cradling his face in his palms. Mingi considered his word choices.

“You can’t-”

“I can’t what? Like him? I can’t tell him? Or I can’t keep it from him? Either way, he already really likes Yeosang, and now they’re dating, and it’s too late for me. I can’t even be his best friend anymore, since he won’t give me a time of day.” San took another hit of the blunt before throwing it on Mingi’s desk, standing up and grabbing his jacket, blazer, and backpack. “Thanks for today, Mingi. I hope you’ll keep this to yourself.”

That night, Wooyoung laid in his bed, thinking about San’s kiss. He wondered if it meant anything, and if he had missed anything that San had said or done that might have hinted that it did, but couldn’t think of anything. San had been more than supportive about him approaching Yeosang. Although he wasn’t always positive about it, he helped. He helped with the brownies, and he helped with the initial conversation. But things were changing, Wooyoung realized that. He does miss having fun with San, playing ball, looking for new places to eat and hang out, gossipping about classmates and just goofing around. Recently it’s been all about Yeosang. 

Wooyoung’s phone buzzed. He lifted it so his screen would light up, showing the message notification from Yeosang.

_ what did you have for dinner? _

_ clams _

_ okay, im going to sleep soon. gnight _

_ goodnight _

Yeosang gazed at his screen, observing the texts. It’s short, compared to the texts that Wooyoung had sent before. He locked his phone, putting it aside as he took his anxiety medication. The sound of the television murmured at a low volume in the background, his father watching it with empty eyes, not really there.

His father took pills too. Yeosang wasn’t the only one who suffered from the event.

“Yeosang,” his father called softly as he passed. “You okay? How’s school been?”

Yeosang turned to face his father. “It’s okay.”

“Are you making friends? How’s Mingi?”

“Mingi’s fine,” Yeosang’s eyes flickered away, not able to lie with a straight face. “Yea I have friends.”

“I saw on the CCTV that you had someone over the other day,” his father smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Sure.”

“He’s a good kid, right? You’re not hanging out with the wrong crowd?”

Yeosang felt annoyance building in his chest. “Dad, do we really have to?”

“Come on, son. We have to help each other out. I… it’s hard, I know. It’s hard for me too. Talk to me, please?” His father patted the seat next to him. Yeosang opted for the kitchen counter stool.

“Wooyoung. His name’s Wooyoung.”

“Classmate?”

“From the class next door. We knew each other through our orientation class. He’s nice.” Yeosang paused, wondering if he should go on. “His friends, San and Yunho, are friends with Mingi. They seem nice too.”

Yunho rested his chin on his hands, looking out the window over his desk, a workbook opened in front of him. The night sky was dark, but the city lights below never rested. He fumbled with the pen in his hand.

San had kept the brownies in his desk drawer, wondering if they had an expiry date. They probably do. He unwrapped one, putting a bite into his mouth. The sweetness melted in his mouth, albeit being a bit dry. As he bit into the M&M’s his mind wandered to Wooyoung’s tongue. He felt his cheeks flush, one of his hands rubbing between his legs.

Mingi had finished the blunt that night, his throat dry, head woozy and at the seventh cloud. He giggled to himself as he tried to finish some homework, realizing it won’t happen. He doodled Yeosang, eyes wide like a manga character, straight bangs falling just above his eyes. Then he doodled San, straight lines for eyes, dimples resting on his cheeks. He drew Wooyoung, a beauty mark under his left eyes, hair wavy and pushed back by a tub of gel. Yunho was last, eyes round, a wiggly line for a mouth. He added puppy ears on his head. Without realizing, it was morning, and a drool pool had formed on his notebook page, blurring his own half-drawn face.


	7. knife go stab stab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the group gathers for lunch, and yunho goes missing for a night, reappearing in a devastating state. 
> 
> TW >> underage drug use, heavy violence, blood, sexual assault. scene was depicted in detail, please refrain from reading if it is highly triggering to you.

Yunho stood still by the rooftop exit door, like a rock. San stood next to him unwillingly. Mingi had already gone to sit next to Yeosang, unwrapping his kimbap rolls.

“We should all hang out together,” Yunho smiled, determined to make it work. Wooyoung squinted his eyes at the taller, then glanced at San, who was looking out at the scene below them. He turned to Yeosang, who was already chattering with Mingi. He stretched his lips as he nodded at Yunho in agreement. The tall boy bounced to his place next to Mingi. San slowly approached the empty spot between Yunho and Wooyoung, wondering if this was a set up. He looked up at the familiar handsome boy sitting across from him. He caught Yeosang's eyes, who smiled softly at him.

“You must be San.”

“Hi,” San said carefully. “Nice to finally meet you. Wooyoung doesn’t like to share.”

It made Yeosang chuckle, smiling at Wooyoung. Wooyoung smiled back. San felt like puking. Yunho saw his friends’ expressions, suddenly feeling a sense of awkwardness. 

"So, Yeosang!" Yunho started, making the boy look up with wide eyes. “You must know a lot about Mingi’s past. Spill some tea! Did he date anyone?” Yunho proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows. Mingi slapped his arm, and Yeosang smirked, looking at Mingi.

“Should I tell them?” Yeosang asked.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I think he had this crush on an upperclassman. He was in the audiovisual club and DJed for the school radio.”

“Oh my god,” Mingi groaned. The rest of the crowd wooed. 

“Was he cute?” Wooyoung asked.

“He was pretty popular,” Yeosang nodded, smirking at Mingi again. Mingi just shook his head, cheeks turning red. “When he graduated Mingi went to him and gave him chocolates. But by then Mingi was already so tall, he practically loomed over the guy. It was so funny.”

“Yeosang, please stop,” Mingi begged. Yunho watched the boy endearingly.

“Wooyoung had a crush on an upperclassman too,” San chirped. “He was in the dance team with Woo, and Woo was so clingy to him, he made it so obvious.”

“I was NOT clingy!” Wooyoung defended himself.

“You were! You were all Seonghwa hyung this, Seonghwa hyung that. And then you found out he had a girlfriend and left the club.”

“I left because I got bored,” Wooyoung retorted back unconvincingly. 

“Oh Park Seonghwa? He wasn’t actually dating that girl though,” Yunho piped in.

“Not the point,” San brushed off. “Then there was that annoying kid too, Choi Jongho.”

“Jongho was nice,” Wooyoung hissed.

“San ah, I think Jongho’s really the one! He wanted to buy me snacks and bought my favorite one! I didn’t even tell him I like it! I think we’re soulmates!” San teased.

“Hey!” Wooyoung attacked San by the waist, pinching and tickling him. San scrunched his face and tried to avoid the other, leaning backwards while the rest cackled at San’s imitation of Wooyoung. Sweat formed on Yeosang’s neck unknowingly, and hs laughter slowly turned to heavy breathing. Mingi turned, noticing it earlier than the others.

“You okay?” he asked in concern.

“Yea, I’ll be fine,” Yeosang smiled softly. “Do you have water?” 

Wooyoung hurriedly reached into his lunch bag for his water bottle and offered it to Yeosang. San watched carefully. Even in a panic Yeosang looked painfully pretty; of course Wooyoung would like him. So soft and dainty, like a feather. Yeosang caught San’s stare and smiled.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Oh, uh,” San hesitated, looking elsewhere. “That’s good.”

Yeosang watched as the rest fell back into their conversation about their school’s upperclassmen and how they’re doing now. Wooyoung attentively watched as San told stories, Yunho giving comments about San’s inaccuracies, and Mingi listening with an open mouthed smile lingering on his face. It’s been a while since he had a group of friends gathered, especially since all of them worried that they would break Yeosang or something. It was a concern of Yeosang as well; that he’d have a panic attack in front of them. Because of that, he had avoided having groups of friends. But now, he was happy he had them in front of him. Two of them had seen him break and stayed. He hoped the other two would stay as well.

Wooyoung glanced at his wrist watch and glanced around, looking for approval to disperse. He clung onto San’s arm, looking at Yeosang. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Yeosang watched the linked arms; natural, unwavering. He caught San’s sight again, and he saw the same look that he had before; as if looking for something within Yeosang, and Yeosang wondered if San had found what he was looking for, or if Yeosang even had the answers he wanted in the first place. 

“Yea, see you.”

Wooyoung wrung his index finger around Yeosang’s pinky and smiled, then left, lunch bag in one hand, Yunho trailing behind the two. Mingi watched Yeosang for a second, holding his breath. The tension was high but it was the first time in a long time that they had gathered as a group. Mingi didn’t want to ruin any of that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Yeosang nodded, smiling.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yea, it was nice.”

“Okay. That Wooyoung kid is really loud isn’t he? I’m surprised you hadn’t smacked him.”

“He’s soft around me,” Yeosang told. “He knows how… sensitive I get.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing.”

Yeosang hummed. Is it a good thing?

-

That afternoon, San was in charge of making sure Mingi didn’t go home alone. Yeosang said he wanted to tag along; he hadn’t been to Mingi’s apartment in a while. San decided he would stick around a little longer, since he didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the afternoon. He watched as Yeosang took a drag of Mingi’s joint, smiling naturally and chuckling at Mingi’s commentary on class politics. Yeosang then passed the joint to San, who took it, looking at it for a moment before taking a hit. It didn’t take long for Mingi’s room to grey in the smoke, and they were all giggly and flipping through his comic collection, lazily choosing the best anime protagonists and arguing plot points, debating which character was secretly horny for who.

“I didn’t know you were a stoner,” San mentioned, throat dry by the end of the night. He had taken the elevator with Yeosang, heading home after Mingi shooed them for almost ripping one of his comic books in half. It was weird with just the two of them, since they were the ones who had the least amount of time spent with each other.

“I’m not,” Yeosang snickered. “I just need things to take the edge off sometimes. And I’d rather be here than at home, alone. At this time, dad’s probably already back.”

“You don’t like being home alone?” San asked. He already knew all the answers, all the reasons, and yet he wanted to hear it from Yeosang himself.

“Not really, no,” Yeosang smiled.

“You should invite us over some time then,” San chirped. “Or Wooyoung. I’m sure he’d like that.”

“Yea, sure, of course. We can play video games or something. I have a PlayStation.”

San observed the other. Compared to his other friends, Yeosang always looked reserved and timid. But by himself, it was clear that he wasn’t timid, just quiet; a habit from trying to escape loud triggering noises. It made conversation with Yeosang a luxury. Yeosang had a sharp jaw, his eyebrows angled towards his nose bridge, and lungs made of stone, apparently. He wasn’t who San thought he was; the dainty angel descent that needed to be cradled carefully. He wondered if Wooyoung saw this side of Yeosang. They hadn’t really talked about all the reasons Wooyoung liked Yeosang, except for the fact that he’s cute. But Wooyoung was committed either way.

“Quit staring at me,” Yeosang scolded. “Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re not pretty,” San teased. 

“I never said I was,” Yeosang replied, walking out of the elevator, annoyed.

“You’re just cute and adorable,” San pouted, attacking Yeosang from the back, embracing him. The two wore jackets on top of their school uniforms, the cold starting to seep through their skins.

“You’re weird,” Yeosang whined, not fighting back.

“Hey, if you break up with Wooyoung I want to date you.”

“Hell no.”

“I’m cuter than Wooyoung, you have to admit.”

“I suddenly can’t hear anything.”

In the cold, the bus engines warmed them, the cars passing reflecting lights from the streets and apartments above them. They got into their respective buses, San leaving before Yeosang. At the corner of Yeosang’s eyes he saw upperclassmen from his school with unfamiliar faces, the uniforms the only thing identifying them from across the street. He looked away when his bus approached the stand, standing up as he pulled his pass from his jacket pocket. Where the upperclassmen stood, a curled body lay beneath them, twitching from pain. He huffed a cold air, but the others only stared, giving him one last kick before walking away, leaving him to pass out in his own pool of blood.

-

“Have you guys seen Jung Yunho?” Mingi asked as he approached the back of class 1-2. Wooyoung and San looked at each other curiously, then back at the taller, shaking their heads. 

“He’s not with you?” Wooyoung asked back. “He told me he’d take over my shift this morning.”

“He was supposed to come over last night but he didn’t show up. He hadn’t been answering my calls either.”

“Maybe he just got sick or something,” San tried to ease the other, despite being nervous himself. “We’ll see him at lunch, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Mingi sighed. He looked down the hallway, towards class 1-1. “Maybe I’ll just check if he’s here.”

Mingi walked away and the two watched. The homeroom teacher was hollering surnames, taking attendance when Mingi walked back, shaking his head at his friends as he passed. Wooyoung and San looked at each other again and looked back to the front of the class, hoping for the best. At lunch, they gathered around on the rooftop, each taking turns calling the boy, but to no avail. Soon, the phone stopped ringing and went immediately to voicemail. It was switched off.

“Does anyone have his parents’ phone number?” Mingi started. None of them did. 

“Maybe the homeroom teacher knows what happened,” Wooyoung suggested.

Just as he spoke, the exit door swung open. One of the older teachers stood by it, his face tired and wrinkled. “Kang Yeosang, Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung, Choi San. Come to the teacher’s office, now.”

“He said he’d text when he arrived, and he usually does, but we didn’t think much when he didn’t, we just thought he forgot,” Yunho’s mom explained softly, trying her best to choke back tears. Yunho’s father rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. The parents and two teachers sat on the two sofas, a coffee table between them, the four students standing in a line by the side. Yunho’s mom looked up at Mingi. “Did you really not see him yesterday?”

“He never showed up,” Mingi replied, almost at a whisper.

“In some cases these kids just tend to run away, and return in a few days when they get too tired or run out of money,” the older teacher explained to the mother. 

“He’s not like that,” she sighed. “He-he wouldn’t run away. He has no reason to.”

“We don’t know what goes on in these kids’ minds,” the teacher replied. 

“My son is a good kid!” the mother told, anger boiling her blood. “Something happened to him! We want to make a police report.”

“Mrs Jung, trust me when I tell you that the police will say the same thing,” the teacher sighed. He looked at the younger woman sitting next to him, looking for support. She looked down at the coffee table, reluctance expressed in her face.

“I’ll help you make a report,” the teacher replied. The older man rolled his eyes. The mother smiled gratefully at the young teacher. They spoke softly about the process, the older teacher standing up and walking away. 

“You lot can leave now,” he told the boys as he passed. They looked at each other, then back at adults talking over the coffee table. Feeling helpless, they left the office. That afternoon, Wooyoung took the bus with Mingi back to his apartment. At his stop, Mingi sat down on a seat at the bus stand, his apartment complex behind him. He looked around, trying to imagine Yunho getting off his bus, his soft smile etched on his face as he looked up at the apartment complex, then back at his phone screen, trying to find the right building. Did he make it this far? Or did he wander off somewhere else? Yunho is a smart guy, he wouldn’t make a big mistake just trying to get to the apartment complex. Supposingly he did get here, how could he have ran off track? Did he get on the wrong side of the road? Or did something distract him? 

Mingi observed his surroundings. If Yunho got on the wrong side of the road, the bus stop is only about a few meters away from this one. Mingi started walking towards that stop, watching the sidewalk carefully, fast but attentive. He crossed the road, watching the long metal seat roofed by a plastic sheet and rusting metal rods on the other side. The stop wasn’t crowded, and it didn’t leave any clues that Yunho was there; just some rolled paper that someone had left on the ground, barely missing the targeted trash bin. He started walking the opposite direction, back towards the stop that was nearer to his apartment. This side of the road was mostly shoplots, squeezed next to each other, the sidewalk a lot narrower, edging him to the tarred ground whenever another person passes. He reached an alleyway where bags of trash piled on top of each other, a grey and neon green duffel bag that laid among the black plastic bags catching his attention. He looked around to see if anyone was around before he approached it, carefully pulling it out of the pile with the tips of his fingers and thumb. He let it sit on the sidewalk before crouching to unzip the bag. His eyes widened at the school uniform crumpled into the bag; the badge was the same as the one he wore on his chest. He rummaged through the clothes and found textbooks, a pencil case, and a dead phone. He flipped the pages of one of the books, and on the very front page, etched with a black gel pen, was the name ‘Jung Yunho’. 

Mingi stood on his feet, looking down the alleyway. He only saw more trash bags, piled on top of empty rotting boxes. He walked along the narrow alley, half hoping to see Yunho somewhere, the other half wishing he wasn’t here. Less than a minute later, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Jung Wooyoung.

“Mingi, they found Yunho. He’s at the hospital right now.”

-

Yunho looked different. They said he walked into the emergency room himself, quiet but cooperative, telling staff that he was in an accident. The four friends looked at him from the side of the bed expectantly, but he didn’t say a word. Yunho’s parents stood by the room door, talking in whispers with the doctors, concern dripping from their faces. From the bruises they couldn’t confirm that it was from an accident or if it was an act of human nature, so the doctors told that if the parents decide to make a report, what the hospital has can’t help much with investigation, however willing they would be to give that information. They soon dispersed, his parents approaching the bed where Yunho lay. Three other beds surrounded them, the one next to Yunho’s empty, the other two occupied by resting patients. Yunho’s bed sat on a corner nearer to the entrance, facing the bathroom, the mattress a thin matter, covered with multiple sheets to make it appear more comfortable, but only bothered Yunho more when they shift in multiple directions every time Yunho sat up or laid down.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Yunho’s father stated emphatically. Yunho only nodded in response, his face tired, cuts along his cheeks patched with white squares, the gash on his lip dark red and swollen, one of his eyes sore, pigmented a blue black. “Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

Yunho shook his head slowly, looking down at his fingers. Two of them broke, wrapped in a white cast, the others swollen under bandages. Mingi followed his sight, only able to sympathize with the other. One of Yunho’s ribs cracked, but they said it will heal with rest. There was a wide gash on Yunho’s thigh when they found him, surprising the hospital staff even more that he had been able to walk into the ER by himself. 

“Okay. Just have a good rest,” his mother assured him, resting a hand on his softly, then letting go. The parents looked at his friends gratefully, then walked out of the room.

“I found your duffel bag in an alleyway near my house,” Mingi told. “I already gave them to your parents.”

Yunho nodded a thanks, not saying anything more.

“You really don’t wanna tell us what happened?” San asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Yunho breathed deeply, trying his best to not garner any emotions. Not here, not now. He only looked up at Wooyoung, his eyes empty.

“We shouldn’t have taken the brownies, Wooyoung.”

“What brownies?” Yeosang whispered. Wooyoung felt sweat drip down the back of his neck, his shoulders cold and stiff. San looked at Wooyoung, one of his eyebrows raised. He hadn’t told Yeosang; the reason behind the protective services, the reason for Mingi’s bullying. And now, the reason Yunho got so badly beaten up. San pondered what Wooyoung was thinking.

_ Yeosang would blame himself for all of this. _

San looked away, trying to focus his sight on Yunho instead. Wooyoung only looked down, his hands on the metal bar raised from Yunho’s bed frame, squeezing it under the pressure, his shoulder raised and tense. 

“I’m so sorry, Yunho.”

Yunho looked out the window across the room. “I think you guys should leave.”

-

The ddeokbokki didn’t taste as good as they thought it would. It was different, knowing Yunho was so badly hurt, lying in bed in a hospital to rest. If he wasn’t there, he would be here with them, talking about the best way to eat these, which combination of ingredients would suit whose palette. They imagined Yunho’s bright smile, and knew that they wouldn’t be able to see it for a while. Yeosang pushed his paper cup aside, sighing deeply, a question lingering his throat since they left the hospital.

“I feel like everyone knows something about these brownies thing other than me,” he finally expressed, almost stumbling on his words as he blurted it out in frustration.

“I knew you guys did it, but I thought it didn’t matter anymore,” Mingi told in a low and deep voice. “I thought, you know, we’re friends now, it didn’t matter.”

Yeosang bit his lower lip. He looked at Wooyoung with expectation, but the other wouldn’t look at Yeosang. “Wooyoung, please. Just tell me.”

San looked up at Yeosang in pity, his lips in a slight pout. Wooyoung still didn’t look at the other, mouth chewing the rice cakes slowly. Yunho’s words rung in his head, guilt sending spikes up and down his spine.  _ We shouldn’t have taken the brownies, Wooyoung. _

Yeosang’s eyebrows scrunched up at the top of his nose bridge, frustrated. He looked at San, who was looking at him. “You’ll tell me. Go ahead. You can’t hurt me. I’m already hurt.”

Wooyoung’s grip on his wooden stick tightened.

San looked between Yeosang and Wooyoung, then at Mingi. Mingi wasn’t even there anymore, tapping away as he tried to arrange the right words to send to Yunho. The boy with sharp eyes sighed, looking up at Wooyoung one last time uncomfortably before making eye contact with Yeosang.

“We stole brownies from the baking club in exchange of the joint that Wooyoung promised you, for you know, that lunch date.”

Yeosang tilted his head curiously. “That’s it? That’s all this is about?”

“The reason Mingi was bullied, because they thought he was the one who stole it, then Yunho too. Yes, because of the stupid brownies.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Yeosang almost shouted exasperatedly. “Why is this a secret? Why is it so hard for you to tell me?” Yeosang pushed Wooyoung’s shoulder with two fingers, hoping for a response. It only annoyed Wooyoung, making him raise an eyebrow. 

“I think,” San interrupted. “I think Wooyoung didn’t want you to blame yourself for this.”

Yeosang looked at Wooyoung unbelievably, holding back a frustrated scream. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Wooyoung finally looked up at Yeosang, not sure what to say. San was spot on, but now actually hearing Yeosang’s response, it surprised Wooyoung even more. He was trying to protect Yeosang, the innocent angel who he didn’t want to hurt, but had done multiple times now without him even knowing. He looked at Yeosang with wide eyes, slightly hurt by his words, but also unsure of the situation unfolding before him. Yeosang stood up, not wanting to say anything else, knowing he would only say the wrong things if he said anything at all right now. Wooyoung stood with him as he slung his backpack across his shoulder. 

“Yeosang, I-”

Yeosang raised a hand at Wooyoung, stopping him from continuing. Yeosang bit his lower lip before he said it. “This brownie thing is  _ your _ problem. I didn’t tell you to steal it. I didn’t ask you to do everything you can to get that fucking joint. I already liked you, weed boy or not. Now, now… it has gone too far. I don’t want to deal with this.”

Wooyoung watched Yeosang walk out of the stall, his entire chest feeling like it had collapsed into his stomach. When Yeosang was out of sight, he looked down at the table, Yeosang’s paper cup still almost full with ddeokbokki. He felt tears swell in his eyelids. “Fuck,” he muttered, feeling them run down his cheeks and hit the table surface in perfect circles. “Fuck, fuck.”

San watched Wooyoung sit down across from him, his palms covering his eyes, hoping the flood would stop flowing. Instead it turned to breathlessness, and with every sob Wooyoung released a stream of tear fell down his wrist to his elbows. Mingi quietly looked as well, not sure of what to say. He hadn’t heard Yeosang speak his mind so clearly before. 

“That was rough, buddy,” Mingi finally muttered. San nudged Mingi with his elbow, not sure if those are the right words. To their surprise, Wooyoung started chuckling airily.

“Fuck, this is stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“We didn’t know it’d get this far,” San told. “We didn’t know.”

Wooyoung finally removed his hands from his face, tears staining his cheeks, red veins crawling on the white of his eyes. He looked up at San, his expression turned stone hard, his eyes expressing nothing but anger. His lips curled on the edge, a flesh on his cheek flaring. He opened his mouth just slightly, a grunt escaping it.

“I’m going to kill Hoon with my bare fucking hands.”

-

Yunho’s mind wandered to a million places; from Mingi’s late text, to his excited chirping to his parents, to his wide eyes as he waited for the right stop to get off the bus. From the third years that had punched and grabbed him as he walked pass a dark alleyway, to the cold sharp metal thrusted into his flesh, making him fall to his knees, to the dirty trash-scented floor he laid on, his spirit broken not only by the foot that crumbled the bones of his fingers, but also by the passerbyers who did nothing as they watched, another kick landing on the side of his face as he coughed phlegm to the dirty ground. He felt the blood from the big gash drip down his thigh, creating a dark stain on his sweatpants. At this point he was lightheaded, not enough blood flowing to his brain to comprehend what his body was feeling other than sore and weak. He blinked as the lights above him blurred. The night sky was dark, but the city lights never rested.

Then he thought about how he was woken by thick hands grabbing him by the arms and throwing him into a heated car seat, the smell of clean leather intoxicating his half awake brain. He had jolted up at the hand that grabbed his crotch, fumbling with it roughly and carelessly, the short fingers grabbing whatever he had felt through the thick sweatpants fabric. Yunho tried his best to lift the hand that didn’t hurt as much as the other, pushing the hand away, his breaths short and hurting his chest. To his dismay, the hand grabbed one of Yunho’s sore fingers and twisted it, letting the weaker know who was in control in this situation. A sharp ring screamed in Yunho’s ears from the pain. A familiar voice started talking calmly as he continued palming Yunho.

“You will not tell anyone about who did this to you. You will not inform teachers, and to your parents, you tell them it was an accident. We will drop you near a hospital, but you will not tell them how you got there. You had walked. And your friends, they will be safe if they keep quiet too. If anything comes up, Choi San will be next. Or maybe that pretty boy Kang Yeosang. Oh shit, I forgot about Song Mingi.” The voice chuckled. “Maybe I’ll get him settled first. That fucking cunt. I want to rip his asshole apart.”

Yunho felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. He had no energy left in his body to fight back, or even speak a word. The car stopped on the side of the road. Yunho had no idea where they were, and he didn’t bother to look out the window to find out; he only let himself stare into the back of the headrest in front of him, the dark void distracting him from the assaulting fingers.

“Give me a minute,” Hoon told the driver. He proceeded to pull his pants down, one hand rubbing on Yunho’s cock as it stiffen, the other on his own, panting slightly before he sighed. Yunho felt fear and shame run through his veins, chills running down his dirtied neck, his ears turning bloodshot red. Hoon grabbed Yunho’s face roughly, hand drenched in cum, making Yunho look at him. “You don’t know the people I know. You don’t want to know. I can ruin your life. Do you understand?”

Yunho only nodded slowly, tears continuing to stream down his face, unable to control his terrified expression. 

“Good boy,” Hoon grinned, wiping the white liquid on the younger’s face with Yunho’s jacket collar. The driver opened the door on Yunho’s side. “Now scram.”


	8. take me on a trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingi confronts Yunho. San gets a bad trip. Wooyoung and Yeosang washes vomit off of Yeosang's carpet.
> 
> TW >> mention of sexual assault, drug abuse, withdrawals.

Yeosang didn’t like eating alone. Not anymore, after over a month of having someone to talk to during lunch. It was near the holiday season, and he spent his lunch breaks flipping through textbooks as he munched down at least three strawberry cream buns. It was another day of just that; angrily studying as the chatter around him turned into background noise, trying his best not to think about his friends. He heard that Yunho had come back to school, but nothing else. He avoided eye contact with Mingi. It’s a lot, living through everyday barely speaking to anyone at all. He went to his basketball practices, went back home and did his homework, and that was it. It got harder to not think about the shadow that haunted his living room, but he had his anxiety pills. It helped, even if a little bit. When it doesn’t, he imagined the birds flying by his hospital window, their colors turning from the black of crows to the whites of doves. 

San sat with Mingi and Yunho at Yunho’s table at the back of class 1-1. San and Mingi were careful around Yunho ever since he came back. At first they tried to cheer him up; San would ask about movies and games and shows that he knew Yunho liked, but Yunho responded half heartedly. Some days he would tell San that he didn’t want to talk about it and left it there. Mingi had asked Yunho out a few times but got rejected each time. San told Mingi that it wasn’t anything against Mingi, he’s sure, but it still hurt Mingi’s ego. Today was no different; San and Mingi talked about classes and which topics they thought would come out for the coming exam season while Yunho sat between them, eating quietly, eyes empty, smile absent. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened in those 14 hours he was missing, keeping all the shame and hurt to himself, the scar on his thigh a constant reminder.

San had only talked to Wooyoung in class lately. Wooyoung was glad to still have a friend in him, despite having seen all of Wooyoung’s faults. At lunch Wooyoung would sit on the raised edge of the roof and eat alone. He knew Yeosang wouldn’t come, but he still hoped. He missed Yeosang and the way they talked about nothing at all, bits of rice getting stuck on the side of Yeosang’s mouth when he devoured Wooyoung’s rice, looking down the roof to get a thrill, his curled lashes gently fluttering every time Yeosang looked up at Wooyoung. It seemed like a long time ago, but time had stretched this semester, seeming like an illusion even to high school kids. Too many things had happened, and Wooyoung was carefully treading water, thinking about his next step to get to Hoon without getting his skull completely bashed in, and without getting any of his friends involved. 

Wooyoung knew now the reason Mingi’s bullying hadn’t been brought up by the school; Hoon’s father was the owner of a big company and a major contributor to the school’s funding, so his family was untouchable, especially Hoon, who was believed to succeed his father. Even if anyone knew what was going on, they wouldn’t dare bring it up; Hoon’s father would mercilessly squeeze them out of the system through whatever power and connection that he had. Just like Hoon himself, his father chased people he didn’t like down to the wormhole, including a teacher that had questioned Hoon’s good grades despite him constantly skipping class. The teacher ended up jobless, now a delivery man for some unknown fried chicken store. If Wooyoung was to approach Hoon, he had to do it in a way where Hoon wouldn’t be able to circle around it.

What did Hoon fear? The system? His own father? Being embarrassed in front of everyone? No. What he feared was the loss of power; being weak and helpless in front of everyone who had kneeled before him. Mingi was a testament to that; he targeted Mingi because he wasn’t scared of Hoon. Even with little proof that Mingi was the one who stole the brownies, Hoon just wanted to prove to Mingi that _he_ was in control. Wooyoung thought about Yunho and what he said; it was evidence that what happened to Yunho was Hoon’s actions as well. Thinking of how to strip away Hoon’s power completely without any repercussions made Wooyoung’s head ache. He went back to his bowl of rice, finishing it within three mouthfuls.

Wooyoung knew he needed to physically prepare himself as well. In the silence from his friends, he found the time to visit his apartment complex’s gym, and bought himself a pocket knife that he practiced pulling out of the side of his shoe and swinging it open often whenever he was alone. He had several cuts on his thumb and palm doing so but he gritted his teeth through the pain, knowing it would only make him mentally stronger for when he decided to do something about Hoon. The boy thought about what he said in the ddeokbokki stall.

If it came down to it, he _would_ kill Hoon. He had to. 

-

Mingi was waiting outside of class 1-1 at the end of school session. He glanced up when he felt the shadow of the taller pass him. Yunho had purposely ignored him, seeing Mingi from inside the class. Mingi walked faster, catching up with the other as he paced to the school entrance, an easy feat for someone with legs as long as Yunho’s. 

“Yunho, let me walk with you,” Mingi started. “Please. I want this to end. Can’t we be like before? You said I’m not alone anymore.”

Yunho didn’t say anything when Mingi walked with him to his bus stop, a few blocks away from the institution. Mingi didn’t speak either, observing the other attentively. Yunho on the other hand avoided eye contact, lips still sealed, his ears turning red. The weather was colder now, and they wore padded jackets to keep themselves warm. Mingi watched Yunho rub his hands in his jacket pocket, trying to keep himself warm. Without thought, Mingi slipped his hand in Yunho’s pocket, grabbing the other’s hand, wanting to warm it, rubbing it with his thumb. Yunho looked up in surprise, and Mingi pulled back, feeling the warmth from the hand warmer that Yunho was holding onto. Mingi looked away, embarrassed; his hand was colder than Yunho’s. 

Mingi’s lips pouted as he looked out at the road in front of them. Yunho sputtered into laughter. He laughed for a good minute before pausing. Mingi looked at the other, only to see tears streaming down his pink flushed cheeks. Mingi sat up. 

“Yunho.”

Yunho wiped away the tears quickly, looking down at the ground below him, his cheeks still flushed. 

“A-are you okay?”

Yunho shook his head, gulping the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. They were quiet as they got on the bus, sitting on the single seats. When Yunho stood up to get off, Mingi followed cluelessly. 

“Yunho, we’re heading back to your place, right?” Mingi asked as he quickened his pace to walk next to the other. They were on a wide sidewalk lined by shoplots, a hilly residency behind them. Yunho nodded towards a cafe further down the sidewalk. 

“Let’s grab something to drink.”

The cafe was small and cozy, the walls decorated with red brick wallpaper, the menu behind the cashier a chalkboard with handwritten items, a neon light above it, shaped to write the shop’s name in script. Yunho ordered a hot mocha and Mingi bought iced latte with a slice of carrot cake. The glass wall that faced the road outside let a good amount of light in, and the two sat at a table in a corner between it and a wallpapered one. Mingi had taken two forks for them to share the cake but Yunho didn’t pick up the other, sipping his mocha in silence. Mingi put down his fork on the cake’s saucer, leaning closer to the other.

“Jung Yunho, I like you.”

It made Yunho’s cheeks flush the same pink as before. He kept quiet despite it, eyes still not making contact with Mingi’s. 

“Because I like you, I want to make sure you’re okay. And if you’re not okay, I want to know the cause of it,” Mingi continued. “I really wish you’d tell me what happened with Hoon.”

Yunho had set his cup down, rolling on the piece of paper that was his receipt, now a white scrap with smudged black ink. 

“I know he’s rough. I know what he’s capable of. I-I’ve been through it. Damn it, I really thought he was going to rape me that day.” Yunho’s eyes flickered up at Mingi, then back down, seeing how Mingi’s sight was stuck on him. “Is that it? Did… did he…”

“I can’t. I can’t talk about this right now,” Yunho sighed, scrunching his eyebrows, choking back tears. 

“Then when, Yunho?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, soft but tired. “He broke the guy I like, he changed you, and I want to fix that. I… I miss you, Yunho.”

Yunho looked up with anger in his eyes, his lips pressed tight. His eyebrows were still scrunched, not sure where he wanted to go from here. Yes, he had changed. But what had happened to Yunho can’t be undone. Mingi can’t fix him. If Yunho was to one day go back to the way he was before what Hoon had done to him, the bright and puppy-like Jung Yunho that everyone loved and adored, it would just be an act, and what Yunho hated the most was being dishonest. 

“You can’t miss me, Mingi,” Yunho finally growled. “I’m right here. This is me. If you don’t like this Yunho, then you don’t like me anymore. Am I right?”

Mingi watched Yunho take another sip of his mocha curiously. What can he say to make Yunho finally tell him what happened? He traced his index finger on the finger that Yunho had broken. Yunho flinched slightly, startled. He curled his fingers back into his palms. Mingi then traced Yunho’s knuckles, watching as Yunho rolled his other hand into a fist as well. Yunho looked up at Mingi, his eyes glass. Mingi looked back softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Yunho, I like you. I want to help.”

Yunho’s face lowered wearily into the palm of his hand; the one that Mingi wasn’t caressing. He gritted his teeth, trying to repress the memories that ran through his mind like a train, the details making him feel like vomiting. His eyes were closed shut, trying to stop himself from screaming from frustration.

“Hoon’s three koolis got me on the way to your apartment, beat me in the alleyway where you found my bag. The next day,” Yunho paused. He took a deep breath, blowing the air in his cheeks slowly as he let go of his own face, eyes opening up to moisture that settled in his eyelids. They didn’t stream down his cheeks like before; he held back any sort of emotion, but he was bursting at the seams. “The next day, Hoon picked me up and took me to the hospital. H-he threatened me…”

Yunho’s voice trailed, not wanting to finish his sentence. Mingi bit his lips tight. He patted Yunho’s hand softly, then went to the counter to ask for a box for the cake. He tossed it in his backpack and pulled Yunho by the wrist out of the shop. Mingi led the other to the residential area behind the shoplots, finding a staircase up to a playground. The sides of the staircase was a tall and narrowly spaced wooden gate, stopping anyone from falling outwards. Behind the gate Mingi embraced Yunho, their jackets padding the space between them, Mingi’s cheeks resting on the glossy black plastic on Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho rested his hands on Mingi’s back, unsure of how to react. Mingi looked up. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I wasn’t done.”

“You don’t have to-”

“He molested me,” Yunho choked up. Mingi’s eyes widened, feeling the weight of the world crash on his shoulders. Balls of tears swelled at Yunho’s eyelids before streaming down like waterfall, Yunho’s words trembling as they left his lips, his cheeks flushed. “He touched me and- I- his cum… it was gross, Mingi, and I- I can’t even tell you how embarrassed I am, and if you’re disgusted by me, I totally get it, and I don’t even feel like I want to- I just don’t want to live anymore-”

Mingi grabbed Yunho by the back of his neck and pushed his head down to his shoulder.

“Please keep living. You deserve to live.”

-

San observed the number on the cling film, now just a piece of plastic sticking to itself, the brownies gone and instead sticking to his teeth. He tapped it on his phone, already intoxicated. The nasally voice answered with a grunt.

“It’s San.”

“Oh, Song’s friend. How can I help you?”

“You got any like, I don’t know, psychedelics?” San’s voice slurred, not sure why he’s so unsatisfied with his high, feeling anger build in his chest.

“Come on down, I think I got what you need.”

It was a quick visit; San didn’t like the man, and he stayed outside, wary. He was given five bottles of an American cough medication, red and thick in its plastic bottle. Jun told San that he’d need at least three bottles to really get a high, five if he was thick blooded. San passed him a 10,000 won bill and walked away before hearing the price. Jun didn’t protest. That night, San stared at his room ceiling, feeling like it would crash on top of him when he least expected it. The walls around him warped in and out, making him feel slightly breathless, but in the most thrilling way. His brain brought him to Wooyoung's face, but instead of his usual grim he giggled, realizing that he was happy even without Wooyoung around. With dilated pupils, he finally shut his eyelids close, passing out until the morning sun woke him.

The next day, San went to class 1-3, Mingi approaching him.

“You have Yunho all to yourself today,” San told under his breath.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Mingi replied, his volume matching San’s.

“Maybe tomorrow,” San mumbled, walking away, heading towards Yeosang’s table. “Can I talk to you?”

They sat on the window sill of the restroom next to class 1-3 quietly, eyes watching each other with caution. Yeosang’s hair had grown down his neck, and his eyes were just slightly exotropic as they watched San, the hem of Yeosang’s pants ripping into threads, some things that San didn’t realize before. He looked so much more human. And broken.

“I know you take anxiety pills,” San started. “I want some.”

“You got anxiety?” Yeosang asked in a quiet voice. San scratched the back of his head, his eyes squinting at Yeosang questionably. They were in a hotbox together and now he’s being calculative? What an asshole.

“You know what I need them for,” San growled. 

“You’re not the soft-hearted guy I knew,” Yeosang sighed. San looked like he barely slept the night before, the underside of his eyes dark, his lips chapped and pale.

“You’re not exactly the person Wooyoung made you out to be neither,” San retorted back.

“I didn’t sculpt that idea into his brain,” Yeosang spat. “He did it himself.”

San squinted his eyes at Yeosang again. “Anyway, pills. You can spare a few.”

“I don’t have them with me,” Yeosang replied, his voice softening again. 

“Fuuuck Yeosang,” San sighed, hanging his head between his knees. “Give me my high, shiiiit.”

“Hold on for a few more hours,” Yeosang said, reaching out to pat San’s shoulder. It helped San relax, if only a little. “I’ll skip practice today, and we’ll go back to my place. Maybe get Mingi, and hotbox the place. Like old times, yea?”

“No, no Mingi,” San shook his head. “No weed. Bad trips lately. No, I just need the pills. Shit. I don’t know if I can last a few hours.”

Yeosang tightened his lips. “Think of something that makes you happy, even without the high. Ice cream, chocolate. Or a show you like, or someone.”

_Wooyoung._

No. He had to stop thinking about the boy that liked the guy right in front of him. Happiness. He felt it last night, with the Nyquil. San looked up at Yeosang pitifully. “Thanks.”

The boy went back to class 1-1 where he would meet his other two friends. They looked up at San expectantly, and even though San was without lunch, he sat at his usual seat. Mingi pushed his lunch box towards San, and the other gratefully picked up a piece of sausage and chewed on it. San’s eyes widened as he glanced at Yunho, who was trying his best to keep his mouth in a twisted smile as he watched San.

“Yunho, you don’t have to force yourself, it’s not even creepy, just awkward.”

Mingi looked up at Yunho, the fake smile faltering. 

“San, you wanna go watch a movie this weekend?” Yunho started, his voice soft. San stopped chewing, sitting up.

“Yea, sure,” San replied. “Just, text me the details and stuff. Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yunho shook his head. “But… I think I need to make myself feel better.”

San looked at Mingi, who grinned back. 

“Mingi’s coming too, right? For the movie?”

“If he wants,” Yunho looked up at Mingi with his round eyes. How could Mingi resist? He wrapped his index finger around Yunho’s. San almost shrieked at the action.

“Did something happen?” San asked, jittery. He was anxious from the withdrawal, and every emotion made him jumpy.

Yunho pulled his hand back. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

Mingi looked at the other, disappointed. Yunho just shook his head slightly, looking down at his lunch. Mingi took it as a ‘not yet’. He continued eating his lunch quietly, his hands itching to hold Yunho’s, warm it, feel the soft touch of his fingers. San only looked on, afraid he'll say something stupid in his anxious state.

That afternoon, San was restless in Yeosang’s room. He couldn’t pay attention long enough to observe the almost sterile condition of the apartment, fidgeting, his mind no longer able to control itself. Yeosang took out his antidepressants from the kitchen cabinet and poured San a glass of water. He went back to his room and saw that San had lied on Yeosang’s bed, only wearing his school shirt and pants, socks and tie thrown next to his blazer, padded jacket, and backpack on the floor.

“Hey,” Yeosang called. “Your order’s ready.”

San sat up, grabbing the bottle from Yeosang’s hand, throwing half a dozen pills onto his palms and sending them down his throat before Yeosang could stop him. He then took a gulp of water before lying back down. Yeosang sat next to him, patting San’s head, trying to calm him down. San rubbed his face into Yeosang’s white pillow, shivering. Yeosang didn’t want to, but he pulled out his phone when he was sure San wasn’t watching and texted Wooyoung, expressing his worry for San. When Wooyoung bursted into Yeosang’s room, San’s eyes widened. 

“Sannie!”

“Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung fell on his knees in front of San, shaking the other by the shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? H-how did you get this way? Was it the weed Mingi gave you? Are you sick?”

San’s head throbbed from Wooyoung’s persistent questions, feeling the world around him spin. He grabbed Wooyoung by the jaw and pulled him in, resting his lips on his own, if it was the only way to shut him up. Wooyoung froze in place, feeling San’s tongue in his mouth. Yeosang stayed in his position on the bed, his chest heavy, but keeping himself quiet as his face turned warm in anger. Wooyoung felt himself melt, leaning into San before pulling back a second too late. He looked up at Yeosang, whose eyes burned a hole into him. Wooyoung’s mouth gaped open, looking back at his sick friend, who was now regurgitating. He grabbed San by the arm intending to bring him to the bathroom, but it was too late. San’s stomach acid splattered on Yeosang’s grey rug, partially digested pills scattered, bits of the little lunch he had contributing to a foul smell that now reeked Yeosang’s apartment. Tears pooled on the edge of San’s eyelids as he found his own footing, pulling away from Wooyoung. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, choking out a ‘sorry’.

The two nursed San clean and told him to sleep as they wiped the vomit, then carefully brought the carpet to the apartment porch. Yeosang brought out a basin with water and soap and they scrubbed the stain that was left on the carpet. The silence between them was suffocating, but it helped that they had something to do to keep them distracted. When they were done, they hung the carpet on the porch fence to dry. Wooyoung shivered as they reentered the apartment, feeling the winter breeze follow them in. He looked at Yeosang hesitantly. Yeosang looked back, his eyebrows set low, lips pressed tight.

“Thanks for telling me about San,” Wooyoung said under his breath.

“Thanks for coming, I think,” Yeosang growled, looking away as he thought about the kiss.

“It was a mistake, he’s high,” Wooyoung told Yeosang, reading his mind. Yeosang closed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself. He thought about the look that San gave him the first time they gathered together. San was looking for a reason to hate Yeosang, but couldn't find it. And in the end, Yeosang couldn't hate San neither.

“San likes you,” Yeosang said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to compete with a 4 year friendship. You don’t have to win me back, Wooyoung.”

“No,” Wooyoung replied exasperatedly. “I want you back. _You_ , Yeosang. Not San. And like I said, he’s just high, he didn’t mean it.”

“Wooyoung, do you even realize what your problem is?” Yeosang finally looked back at Wooyoung, but the only thing Wooyoung could see was anger. “You only see what you want to see. You see me as a frail doll, wanting to take care of me, as if I don’t have a spine of my own. You see Choi San as only a friend, refusing to see the truth behind his actions. Do you realize this?"

"Even if I do, I still like _you_ , Yeosang,” Wooyoung sighed. He stepped forward, caressing Yeosang’s cheek. Wooyoung’s shoulders had stretched in the time he spent working out, while Yeosang’s build had worn down from the lonely lunches, but Wooyoung's cheeks had hollowed, and the shadows around his eyes darker. The taller wanted to hug Wooyoung, but he stopped himself. Wooyoung’s eyes softened. “I miss you. Can you see _that_?"

Yeosang felt his cheeks warm. Wooyoung leaned closer, pressing his lips on Yeosang’s. Yeosang closed his eyes, cupping Wooyoung’s jaw, wanting to feel his warmth again. Wanting to feel like he was wanted, like he belonged here, under Wooyoung’s spell. But the further he reached, lapping his tongue with Wooyoung’s, the further from Wooyoung he felt, thinking of all the times Wooyoung didn’t see who he really was, and here he was again, dismissing what Yeosang had just told him. Yeosang pulled away, his eyes looking at the ground below them. 

“I’m sorry. Can you please leave now? I’ll take San home.”

-

Hoon sneezed in the empty shower room in the school premises, his voice echoing through. It was already late at night, but he couldn’t go home in this condition or else his father would kill him. It wasn’t the first time Hoon didn’t come home anyway, but tonight Hoon was too far buzzed out to even walk, dusted with the crack cocaine that he had just gotten the liking to. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get some of the white powder out before falling asleep on the dirty linoleum.


	9. rooftop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the five finally gather on the rooftop to witness the black crows turn to doves.
> 
> TW >> violence, bullying, mention of death, underage drug use, underage drinking

Wooyoung glanced over to San's table on his right uncomfortably when he arrived at school the next day. San was looking down at his textbook, his face still slightly pale, but he had put on some lip balm, and his shoulders were relaxed. San noticed the other and looked up, pulling a faint smile. Wooyoung grinned back and San looked back down.

"Uhm," Wooyoung started. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yea," San said without looking at Wooyoung, almost at a whisper.

"Sorry I didn't stick around."

"It's okay. Yeosang's dad drove me back."

"I'm glad." Wooyoung fumbled his thumbs. "Is there… is there anything you wanna say to me? You can be angry at me if you want. Like, if there's any problems, we can just talk it out, you know?"

"There's nothing to talk about," San sighed. He looked up at Wooyoung, void in his eyes. "You like Yeosang. You want _him_. That's all there is to it."

Wooyoung felt a pain in his chest, his throat dry. How could he not realize that San had feelings for him? He probably overheard Wooyoung’s conversation with Yeosang yesterday, and Wooyoung started imagining how much it hurt to hear those words. He had hurt his own best friend, and now he's not sure how he truly felt either. 

They looked to the front when the homeroom teacher walked in, greeting him. After a while Wooyoung started zoning out, thinking about what Yeosang had said yesterday. It made him think about the first time San and him had kissed. Didn't Wooyoung feel like the world around him had vanished, like it was the only thing that mattered, like that was where they belonged, next to each other? Wooyoung felt his face warm at the thought, thinking of San's soft lips against his, and the way it was sweet. Even yesterday, when he was faint and sick, San felt right. Even when he kissed Yeosang, wasn’t it San's touch what filled his mind?

"Jung Wooyoung!" 

Wooyoung jumped in his seat, looking up to see the class staring at him. 

"Here!" 

"You look red as a tomato, you okay?" San whispered when the class's attention had moved elsewhere. Wooyoung glanced at San, unable to stop himself from looking at the other's lips.

"Yea, I'm fine," Wooyoung whispered back, trying to look at anything else, his eyes scanning San's face and finally landing on his ears. Yea that's safe, his ears. San clicked his tongue, then reached out to pinch Wooyoung's lower lip. Wooyoung's eyes widened, and San's hand lowered slowly, observing Wooyoung's reaction. They caught each other's eyes, realizing that they were thinking about the same thing. San's ears turned red, looking away. Wooyoung did the same, both quiet until the homeroom teacher left the room. Wooyoung turned slightly towards San.

"I think we need to talk."

-

Their lunch bags swayed in the winter wind blowing by the rooftop, the food inside slowly becoming cold as the silence lingered between them. They felt each other's warmth by the closeness of their hips, but no one dared say a word. San felt slightly bad; downstairs, the boy who used to sit here with Wooyoung was unknowingly having lunch in his classroom. He knew that Yeosang still had feelings for Wooyoung, even if he was disappointed with the boy. Wooyoung on the other hand only thought about the kiss he had with San yesterday, and how he wanted another, but didn't know how to bring it up. If he liked kissing San, then does that mean he liked San too? More than just a friend?

"San, about yesterday," Wooyoung started. He hoped San could continue for him, but instead San waited, his eyes curious as he looked at the other. What should Wooyoung bring up first? The kiss, or his conversation with Yeosang? 

"A-are you still sick?"

"I'm feeling better now," San told, breath short as he looked down to the cement floor beneath them.

"It won't happen again, right?"

"I-I don't know," San replied. 

"You should stay away from those stuff, if you don't feel good taking them," Wooyoung said carefully.

"I mean," San scoffed. "I kinda need them."

"What do you mean?"

"How else am I supposed to…" San trailed, head hanging as he cupped his palm on his face. "How am I supposed to stop thinking about you without them?"

Wooyoung looked away, embarrassed. Then he glanced back, looking at the back of San's head, where the ends of his hair met his nape. They had known each other for so long, and yet this was the hardest conversation they had ever had. Everything came easy with San; he didn't mind Wooyoung's mishaps, and sometimes he tagged along too, so Wooyoung never really felt alone. Not until recently, did Wooyoung realize how lonely he felt without San around to tell him off. San had always been there for him, but when San suffered, he kept it to himself, so that Wooyoung wouldn't be hurt. Maybe Yeosang was right; Wooyoung only saw what he wanted to see, and what he didn't want was to lose a good friend by involving their feelings for each other. What he didn't realize was that he was already losing San by prioritizing Yeosang. Wooyoung ran his fingers through San's hair, making the other turn to face him.

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier. I should've known."

"How could you have, really?" San looked back down, letting Wooyoung's warm hand stay on his head. "I should've been more straightforward, since your ass is so dense."

Wooyoung let go of San's hair, and came down to touch San's wrist. "You didn't have to say anything. That first kiss that we had, I should've known. It was so obvious... that we both wanted it."

San looked up, his cheeks heating up. Wooyoung watched San softly as he straightened his back, leaning closer to reach Wooyoung's lips. A sudden sound of the exit door clacking made them pull back from each other, turning towards it. The door swung open, Hoon appearing with a smug look on his face.

"Whoops, sorry, was I interrupting something?" Hoon asked loudly as he neared the two. Wooyoung's fingers fidgeted to grab his knife but he decided to wait it out, his face tense as Hoon grabbed the back of their heads and turned them towards each other, pushing their faces together. San and Wooyoung's noses clash, causing a sore. Hoon grinned, unsatisfied. "Thought I could help. Maybe not."

"Do you like watching gay porn?" San asked in a low growl, taking Wooyoung by the chin and bringing it closer to his face. He licked Wooyoung's lips and let himself into his mouth, ending it with a wet kiss. "Do you get off by watching two boys kissing? Is that what you wanted to see?"

Hoon's face turned red, his eyebrows scrunched at the top of his nose. He swung an arm at San, who bent down to dodge it. "What do you take me for?" 

Hoon stepped back, wobbly; he was alone, and he didn't look sober. Wooyoung and San stood up, knowing the edge of the rooftop is not the best place to be at the moment; the height of the raised edge was only up to their calves, and a simple push would send them flying down. Hoon lunged towards Wooyoung, kicking his lunch away, letting the food scatter. Wooyoung held back Hoon's pushing arms, and San came closer to help, but stepped back when Wooyoung managed to push Hoon down to the ground. Wooyoung pulled back an arm, aiming for Hoon's face, but stopped when Hoon covered himself with his forearms. Hoon looked weak, almost pathetic. Wooyoung felt sorry for him, lowering his arm, his lips pressed tight. 

"Wooyoung!" San shouted as a hand pulled Wooyoung by the back of his shirt's collar. The hand pushed Wooyoung down to the ground, revealing the owner as one of Hoon's people, the bigger built third year. He punched Wooyoung at the side of his cheek. Unwavered, Wooyoung pulled his right foot to his side, pulling the pocket knife from the inside of his shoe. He flicked it open and cut the side of the third year's upper arm, causing him to scream of pain. Wooyoung took the chance to push him away, running towards San. 

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asked, realizing all three of Hoon's koolies were there, their eyes on San and him. The two others had pulled Hoon aside, letting him sit by the exit door. He had an angry expression, but didn't act upon it. Maybe he realized how high he still is. 

"I'm not the one who just got punched in the face!" San almost shrieked, panicked. "And why do you have a knife?"

"I don't know if you know this but I've been waiting for this day," Wooyoung said in a low voice, watching the three third years approach him carefully as he threatened them with the appearance of the bloody pocket knife. "Hoon and these people need to be stopped."

The burly third year stepped forward, aiming to grab the arm that held the knife, but Wooyoung quickly pulled the knife to his side, landing a punch on the other's stomach. The third year, not showing any signs of pain, grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist and pulled him closer, making Wooyoung swing his knife in defense. The third year stepped back, letting go of the other. As the other two made their way towards Wooyoung, San grabbed one of the boys' forearms and gave a swing of his fist, landing it on the nose bridge. The other managed to pull Wooyoung by the ankle, making Wooyoung swing his arm down towards him in defense. The burly third year took the chance, grabbing Wooyoung from the back by the waist and raising his entire body up and over himself, then dropped Wooyoung on his back. Wooyoung coughed of pain and sat back up, his head slightly dizzy. The third year grabbed Wooyoung by the shirt, turning the younger towards him. Wooyoung raised his knife again but stopped when Hoon shouted.

"Kill him!" Hoon instructed. The third year turned to face Hoon, unsure. "Push him off the roof!"

"Are you sure?" the third year asked, his voice low. "We don't have to go that far."

"Why aren't you throwing him off? Didn't you hear me?" Hoon asked angrily. "I want him dead!"

The third year let go of Wooyoung. "I-I don't want to kill anyone."

"You almost killed Jung Yunho, you can't do the same for this kid? He cut you with a knife!"

"I'm not doing it." The third year stepped back from Wooyoung. Wooyoung watched as Hoon stood up and ran towards him, pushing him to the edge of the roof. With a quick reflex, Wooyoung let his back fall on the raised edge before he was pushed any further, his head bent backwards off the roof.

"Wooyoung!" San screamed. He pushed the third year away, but he held San back, landing a punch on San's face. 

"Fine! If no one else is going to do it, I will!" Hoon shouted. Students below the building squinted their eyes at the rooftop curiously, whispering and running back inside when they realized that there was a fight. "All of you are going to pay for this! My calls had always been the end all! You'll regret this! _I'm_ in control!"

"Hoon, you're high, stop this!" the burly third year told. Wooyoung's wrists were grabbed by Hoon's grip, pushed back towards the cement under him, loosening his grip on his knife. Hoon tried to pull his weight up, wanting to push the rest of Wooyoung's body off the raised edge, but didn't have the strength to do so.

"No one's going to help me?" Hoon shouted. "If someone helps I might forgive you."

The smaller third year, the one who grabbed Wooyoung by the ankle, walked towards Hoon. He took one of Wooyoung's legs by the calf and pulled it up towards the edge. Wooyoung grunted, kicking as he fought back, feeling the cold air brush against his back, his feet losing grip of the ground.

"You're committing murder," the tall third year whispered to himself, frozen in place. "You're really going to kill the kid."

"Don't flatter yourself," the boy who punched San called at him, sitting on the first year's hip, a hand pushing San's shoulder down as he struggled to get up. "You almost beat the life out of Jung Yunho. You're not better than any of us."

The boys turned as the exit door opened again, watching as three familiar first years ran through it and towards Hoon. Mingi punched Hoon in the face, making him fall backwards, while Yunho grabbed the other third year by the waist and threw him on his back. Yeosang helped as Wooyoung's feet scrambled onto the raised edge, pulling himself back onto the inner side of the rooftop, anxious sweat dripping down the side of his face. 

"San!" Wooyoung shouted, panting. Yunho turned and ran towards the other three, pulling the third year by the shoulder and punching him before grabbing San and pulling him up on his feet. While the others' eyes were on Yunho, Hoon had gotten up and lunged himself on Mingi. Yeosang saw Mingi struggle with the older at the corner of his eyes. He pulled Hoon away from Mingi, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him towards the edge of the rooftop. Not realizing how much strength he had used, Yeosang's eyes widened as Hoon lost his footing, his body flipping over the edge, and his fingers grasping on to the cement. Before anyone could come to grab it, the weak fingers gave and a thud sounded across the school campus. Screams shred through the air, and the silence between them broke as yellow acid sputtered out of Yeosang's mouth.

-

The fall wasn't enough to kill Hoon, but had paralyzed him instead. He was permanently reliant on a wheelchair, one of his hands unable to move, his head tilting on one side. All of them agreed to say that Hoon fell over the edge himself, foolish enough to get involved in a fight on a rooftop with cocaine in his veins. It was their words against Hoon's. The school decided that they could expel Hoon on two accounts; the drugs, and the fact that he was now disabled, meaning that their school, lacking facilities for the physically disabled, was unfit to care for Hoon's needs. Hoon's father, who didn't care for a paralyzed child who couldn't possibly take over his company, gave in, and let Hoon's mother take care of his next school. Hearing the stories, all of them felt sorry for the boy, but no one regretted the statement that they had given. It was the only way any of them could find peace.

The rooftop had been a crime scene for weeks, right through Christmas break. None of them had planned on visiting the site anyway. On Christmas Eve, Mingi had met Yunho at the same cafe they went to before and walked him home. Mingi reached out to link his pinky with Yunho's, expecting him to let go again for the umpteenth time. Instead, Yunho pulled Mingi closer and clutched onto his hand. Mingi looked up at the taller to see him smiling. Sincerely, with a kind of sadness lingering, but still honest and innocent. 

"I love you," Mingi felt the words tumble out of his mouth, his eyes wide, not sure if he really said that out loud. "You're gorgeous."

Yunho felt blood rush to his brain, pressing his lips together as he looked away embarrassed. "I-I love you too."

"What?" Mingi gasped. "Really?"

Yunho grinned. "You're weird." He nodded at a blue metal gate. "This is my place."

"Okay," Mingi said, slightly nervous. It was the first time they had to send each other off in a relatively non-public space. He had a lot to say to Yunho, but was still careful, after everything that had happened. Yunho’s still trying to mend his own heart, after all, and Mingi was just there to support him through it. "Merry Christmas, Yunho."

"Merry Christmas," Yunho smiled. He pulled his hand away from Mingi, disappointing the other one more time. It lasted but for a second, as Yunho's hand reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small tan box, the size of his palm. "Here's your Christmas present."

"I-I didn't know we were exchanging gifts," Mingi said, not wanting to look too eager to take the box. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

"It's okay, I don't need a gift."

Mingi took the present from Yunho's hand, feeling the weight as he placed it on his own palm. He removed the lid, revealing a shiny glass angel, small and precious, the road lights reflecting stars on its surface. Mingi picked it up and held it above his head to see through the clear glass. A halo was stuck on its round head, its face featureless, and its wings small but revealed itself gracefully. The body was just a curved cone, and its two small feet stuck on a thin glass plate. 

"Do you like it?" Yunho asked. 

"It's beautiful."

Yunho pulled Mingi's hand down, keeping the angel back in the box. He put Mingi's other hand over it, keeping the gift safe between them. "Take good care of it, okay? With this, you'll never be alone again."

"Okay," Mingi whispered. "Thank you."

"Anyway, the group thought of gathering at Wooyoung's tomorrow," Yunho started. "Wooyoung's parents brought his younger brother back to their hometown to see their grandparents, so it'll just be us, hanging out. Can you ask Yeosang to come too? I know we're not really talking but I thought it'd be nice if he joined us."

Mingi leaned forward and pressed his lips against Yunho's, lingering after letting go, his eyes watching the other softly as his cheeks flush. Yunho's eyes were wide at first, then he fluttered his eyelids, coming closer to give Mingi another kiss. 

"Tomorrow night?" Mingi whispered. 

"Yea, any time after 6 is fine," Yunho whispered back.

"Did I tell you I love you?"

"Yea," Yunho smiled. "And that I'm gorgeous."

Mingi chuckled. "Gosh, why do I always say stupid things."

"It's not stupid," Yunho said. "I love it. I love you. Best first kiss ever."

-

Wooyoung couldn't get enough of San's kisses, sucking the life out of him as he pushed San's hair back. San let Wooyoung do whatever he wanted, just happy to be with the boy, not needing the toxins to make him feel like he's in cloud nine. Whenever Wooyoung leaned in, his cheeks warm as they touched San's, San felt butterflies, his breaths shortened, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was all that San needed. 

"Remember the thing you did on the rooftop?" Wooyoung whispered in between kisses. "That was hot."

"What, punching the third year or screaming helplessly as someone tried to push you off the building?"

"This," Wooyoung replied, licking San's lips and connecting their tongues inside of San's mouth. "Where'd you learn _that_?"

San smirked as his hands ran from Wooyoung's waist to his ass down to his thigh. "You have a lot to learn."

The doorbell buzzed, and Wooyoung sat up, releasing his hold on San. San almost rolled his eyes, not wanting to relax his hard on. Wooyoung just smiled. "Yea, probably not tonight. It's okay, it's gonna be fun with the guys around."

Wooyoung ran to the door when the buzz sounded again. He opened it to see the tall boy with round eyes greeting him with a smile that Wooyoung hadn't seen in a while. It was still hard for Yunho to appear okay, but he tried his best. Today, his smile came sincerely. 

Yunho leaned in closer to Wooyoung. "I brought the alcohol," he whispered.

Wooyoung peeped outside, and seeing that no one was around, he hugged Yunho. "Thank you!"

"I wish you'd appreciate me more even without the beer," Yunho whined, taking off his shoes at the entrance as Wooyoung closed the door behind him, balancing himself by raising the plastic bag in his hand up high, heavy from the dozen beer cans. "Is there anything to munch on?"

"Yea, we got chicken feet and ordered take out, among other things," Wooyoung told, ushering Yunho in.

"Jung Yunho!" San shouted from the living room. 

"Choi San! Hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Yunho smirked playfully.

"You bet you did! Now leave!" San joked.

"Let me join in," Yunho laughed.

"Hey!" Wooyoung said as he threw a cushion to Yunho's head.

"Kidding kidding," Yunho chuckled, grabbing the cushion and pressing it down on San's crotch purposefully. He grabbed a beer can from the plastic bag and rolled it down the coffee table towards Wooyoung, and set one down for San. 

“So this is our first taste of booze, huh?” Wooyoung stated.

Yunho cracked a can open for himself, taking a sip. "Whew, tastes like wheat juice."

"I mean," San started. "Technically."

The door buzzed again, and Yunho offered to open it, saying it was probably Mingi. When the two walked back with Yeosang behind them, hesitant, Wooyoung felt blood drain from his face. He looked at San, who was looking at Yeosang curiously.

"Hey," San called, waving at Yeosang. Yeosang blinked quickly before raising a hand. 

"Hi."

"Hope you guys don't mind, I thought it'd be nice if everyone was here," Yunho said carefully. _Everyone._ Hearing Yunho say that made Yeosang feel like he was part of the group, like he belonged with them. Since the incident, the four had been having lunch together, without Yeosang. On the day, Yeosang had ran behind Mingi when he saw the two rush up the stairs after a few classmates told Yunho what was going on. After that, Yeosang's pride got the better of him, and he soon realized that avoiding Wooyoung would mean that he’d have to avoid the other friends that he had made. When the police brought them together in the staff room, Yeosang knew what he had to do, and with few words from the pale boy, they closed the case. The four left Yeosang alone when he avoided them, rejecting hang out offers and lunch meets, not wanting to bother him too much. But even after everything that happened, Yunho still felt like Yeosang was one of them. Yeosang felt warmth grow in his chest.

"Yea of course, no problem," San grinned, patting the space on the sofa next to him, offering it to Yeosang. Yeosang hesitantly walked closer and sat next to San, still wary of their status with each other. It was hard to make eye contact but San asked Yeosang questions about what he had been doing and while answering them Yeosang felt himself grow comfortable around the boys again. It was as if nothing had changed. The soft hearted San that Yeosang came to know was back again, keeping chatter alive.

"Woo, do you have an ashtray or something?" Mingi asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from his back pocket. 

"Yea I think I can find something," Wooyoung told, heading towards the kitchen. He watched his now-boyfriend and ex-boyfriend talk curiously, two souls that had touched his next to each other, overwhelming Wooyoung slightly. Yeosang looked up to catch Wooyoung's eyes, then looked back to San, immersing himself in the conversation. Wooyoung felt his heart jump, but he was glad Yeosang didn't say anything. He felt slightly sad, searching through the kitchen drawers for an ashtray. Of course, their relationship was the past, but deep inside Wooyoung knew that Yeosang and him can never return to the way they were before. Both of them had hurt each other, and the only thing they could do was move on from it.

"Couldn't find one. You can live using a saucer instead," Wooyoung told as he approached Mingi with a white saucer. Mingi had already lit a cigarette, burning slowly as it hung out his mouth.

"No no, you don't want me using a saucer," Mingi complained. "The ash is gonna fly all over the place. Get me a bowl."

"Geez, so fussy," Wooyoung rolled his eyes, picking the saucer back up and heading towards the kitchen again.

"You two really can't get along, huh?" Yunho chuckled.

"No, he's annoying to me too," Yeosang retorted. "You're the only one who can tolerate him, Yunho."

Yunho grinned as he looked at Mingi, who only gritted his teeth at Yeosang.

"Hey, do you have something else I can smoke?" Yeosang asked, tapping Mingi's side with his foot.

"Yea I got a joint," Mingi replied, pulling a pre-rolled joint from the cigarette box. "You guys wanna puff and pass?"

"I'm okay," Yunho replied.

"Yea no more weed for me," San groaned. 

"Boo, you got boring," Yeosang replied, letting Mingi light the joint for him.

"I got sober," San corrected. Wooyoung came back with a small side dish plate for Mingi, who just grimaced back, realizing it's still as shallow as a saucer, but not saying anything since he needed to kill his cigarette anyway. Wooyoung sat next to San on the couch, switching on the TV and playing a random lo-fi playlist on YouTube. San reached to hold his other hand, and Wooyoung clung onto it with his life. Yeosang watched, a grin appearing on his face. 

"Oh to be young and in love," Yeosang drawled with a hint of jealousy in his voice, taking another hit before handing over the joint to Mingi. 

"Oh come on, as if you don't have dozens head over heels for you," Yunho piped up, taking another sip of his beer. 

"Not that I know of," Yeosang replied. "Well I got other things to think about. The school's basketball team's pretty strong, you know. They're trying to get to at least intercity finals."

"Whoa," Wooyoung gasped. "Ambitious."

"You playing?" San asked.

"Just as a backup. But practice is the same for all of us."

"Glad you found something to focus on," Mingi told, smiling at Yeosang. Yeosang smiled back in appreciation. Mingi could tell that Yeosang was struggling alone, but he wanted to trust Yeosang when he said he didn't need to be taken care of. Yeosang had proven that now.

"Yea, now I don't have time to hang out with you fuckers," Yeosang sighed.

"As if you were making time for us in the first place," San nudged. "We missed you."

"I'll try from now on. Sorry guys."

"Heard the rooftop's gonna be open for access again after the new year," Yunho told. "We should hang out there soon… if you guys want."

"We'll see," Wooyoung replied, feeling like the room was waiting for him to speak up. Deep inside, it did hold too much history for his liking. But it was a good place for all of them to just hang out and be themselves; loud and rowdy and careless. When the time comes, Wooyoung thought, they would probably know then what would be best. "Anyway, why are Yunho and I the only ones drinking our beer? Come on, Yunho went through a lot for these!"

"Yea!" Yunho shouted along, raising his can. "I had to steal my dad's ID and lie to my local conbini to get these!"

"Wow, much effort," San commented sarcastically, cracking open his own beer.

"I think I'm good on the alcohol," Yeosang replied.

"You're missing out on the chance to drink illegally," Mingi retorted, raising a beer can himself, glad to join in on anything that broke rules.

"I've already tried it before," Yeosang told. "I just don't like being drunk."

The room wooed, impressed. Yeosang smiled shyly in return. They raised their cans, and Yeosang raised his joint instead.

"Here's to staying off of drugs! For now!" San chuckled.

"Here's to deadweight parents!" Mingi chimed along.

"Here's to actual dead mothers," Yeosang said, glancing down anxiously but raising his hand anyway to imitate a cheer.

"Here's to fuckheads who tried to ruin us, but can't break us because we're stronger than them," Yunho smiled. They looked around, all finally landing their eyes on Wooyoung.

"And here's to you guys. Thanks for being here."

_"Cheers!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygosh it's finally finished!!! it's been a long ride for all of us, but especially these five. thank you so much to those who stuck through, i know its been tough, and personally i've been going through some times, and if you are too, i hope you'll feel better soon. i hadn't planned on giving them tragic endings, and i hope i didn't disappoint any of you with that, since it's been pretty angsty throughout lmao. but we all hold scars, and those scars is what makes us who we are. they will live with theirs forever, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve these small moments of happiness. the same goes for you and i. anyway, thank you for reading my first ever chaptered work. i would really appreciate comments, even if it's just a word or two. as a writer i disappoint myself with the little amount of ways i can express gratitude. just, thank you thank you thank you!!!
> 
> -kyeoesc-


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